


Animal Instinct

by Stella Luna Parker (Stellala13)



Category: Def Leppard
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Found Family, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Slow Burn, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellala13/pseuds/Stella%20Luna%20Parker
Summary: A non-chronological look at the messy history of Def Leppard, through the eyes of an OC.





	1. Hysteria

**Author's Note:**

> There are many bands mentioned throughout this fic due to the OC's job as a photographer, but as the primary band is DL, I'm not labelling the others.  
> As always, I don't claim any of these portrayals of any real people are accurate, this is completely for fun and not profit, and is not intended to reflect the actual history of any actual band members, living or dead.

_“Out of touch, out of reach, yeah; You could try to get closer to me...I'm in luck, I'm in deep, yeah; Hypnotized, I'm shakin' to my knees...”_

**April 1986 - Dublin, Ireland**

She came in from the rain, smiling lopsidedly. She was a tad wet, and that made Joe grin. “Caught in the rain again, love?” he teased. Her eyes caught his, and she suppressed a laugh.

“Hush, Joe. What’re you guys working on?”

Phil saw her and decided he didn’t care for being left out, and demanded, “Where have you been the last few months, Khris?” This caught the other men’s attentions, including one Mutt Lange.  Mutt turned, and upon laying eyes on the deep red curls, winced.

“Oh no,” he groaned in protest, “Get the distracting harpy out of my studio.”

She rolled her eyes. Some things just didn’t ever change. Mutt still hated the idea that she was ‘in the way’ (his words). And all things being fair, she did have a tendency to distract rockstars, but she could hardly be blamed for the directions of their gazes. Besides, she’d been gone several months now. The later part of the year 1985 and into ‘86 had been spent shooting different working bands once Ross had realized Def Leppard was still in-studio and ‘struggling.’ While she couldn’t disagree, she had also seen an incredible amount of progress once Mutt had returned. More of their lack of progress could probably be blamed on his initial lack of availability for their latest album than last December, in her opinion. If he’d been around, no doubt they wouldn’t have even had enough time off during the holiday for Rick’s...

Her thoughts trailed off as he came out of the booth.

Everything always changed direction when Rick entered the room. Everyone else called him Sav to differentiate, but she always knew which one she meant, and after knowing them this long, both Ricks knew just by her tone which one she was addressing. And as always, he caught her eye and her brain decided to stop cooperating. Tall, slim, with a halo of blonde curls that she constantly wanted to touch, Rick Savage was something else. While Joe presented the classic factory workers’ build, and Steve was waif-like, and Phil had the ‘lean with abs’ thing...Rick ‘Sav’ Savage was simply pretty. He could easily have been a glam rocker if he’d been born a decade earlier, but he wore the Def Leppard style equally well. And unlike Rick, her childhood friend, Sav also had enough of an athletic touch to his build to leave her constantly thinking of the bedroom.

Was it any wonder she loved photographing him?

He looked up, and his eyes caught hers. Instantly, his thoughts were forced back to the last time he saw her, in September. God, the heat hadn’t yet broken properly in Sheffield, and they’d all run up for a short visit. And the two of them had gotten caught in a late summer shower. Her hair had been similarly damp in the shed in Ray’s back garden and they’d...

He stopped his thoughts right there, before he could relive the whole experience, especially as the ending had been, well, unusual for him. And here she was, in spite of having said she probably wouldn’t be back til summer. If that. And apparently it was raining outside. Their creator sure had a sense of humor, that much Sav knew.

“Hi, Mutt,” Khris said sweetly, winding their producer up a little more. “Did you miss me?”

“Not in the least. Now shut it, we’re nearly there with this song. Phil, you’re up with vocals 2. You remember the part?”

As Mutt decided to steamroll ahead, Khris claimed an available chair with her bag and began pulling out her camera and searching for her favorite lens for in-studio work. Finding it and attaching it to her camera, she set it aside and pulled out the Polaroid, already set for the dynamics she was pretty sure she wanted. She snapped 2 test shots of Phil, and set them down to develop as she tugged her long, red curls up into a messy topknot, secured with a pencil after she determined she’d lost her scrunchie again. She eyed the test shots, and then began setting up her proper camera’s dynamics, which was quick work.

Before Phil was beyond his second try of the first phrase, Khris was shooting Mutt’s work, documenting the way the producer spoke into the booth, the way Phil leaned into the mic on his 3rd go ‘round with the phrase. She was fully immersed in both the visual, and the sound she was hearing, finding a way to marry the feeling and infuse it into the photos. And oh, how she loved hearing individual takes, when Mutt lowered the overall vocal mix to almost nothing so they could capture their individual parts. This song, whatever it was, had that strong, heady feeling to it that made her think of the weather back home in the summer, the humid, the sultry. That played over Phil’s face as he sang, and she managed to catch that, working her magic as always.

After Phil finished, Mutt called 10 so he could go over what he’d captured so far and search for the next part. Joe immediately turned to Khris. “Another working holiday?” he demanded indignantly.

“Come on, Joe,” was her response as she moved to her bag and switched lenses. She had a feeling the other would better capture Joe’s backtrack work much better.

“Come on, Joe, nothing! You’ve been gone the best part of 7 months and for what? We don’t see you, or hear from you hardly ever in all that time, and it’s not like we’re very hard to find!”

“Jesus, I was working. You do realize the rest of the world doesn’t run on Dublin time, don’t you?”

Steve decided to join in. “Yes but to our credit, some parts of the world are pretty close-by. Then again, you also got to give Joe’s ego credit for probably forgetting time zones altogether, love. He thinks the universe and everything in it must revolve around him, and his head’s almost big enough for that to be a reality.”

“Will you shove out of this, Clark?” Joe responded heatedly.

“Joe, I was working. Primarily in the States and Japan. I didn’t have a lot of time off to call anyone or do anything but sleep and develop my proofs, even without the ridiculous time difference. Ross got me like 14 contracts in that time. And I mean, have you heard the latest off the Sunset Strip?” When he just looked sulkily offended, she grinned. “I’m guessing you have some _opinions_ on that ‘latest.’” She laughed.

“Well if you’re referring to that ridiculous group of children that call themselves Motley Crue, then yes, I’ve got some opinions. And I don’t like the idea that you spent any kind of time among their ilk.”

She narrowed her eyes, and everyone in the vicinity knew what was coming next. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“That you spent a bunch of time meeting a bunch of fuck-off rockers that’ll be gone in a few years instead of spending time with your damn family in the midst of a difficult time? Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Khrissy, those lot didn’t get popular for the quality of their music, so much as the quantity of women they’ve picked up.”

“Last I checked, Joe, neither did you guys, not in the States. Oh don’t look so offended, it’s true. And stop accusing me of bullshit. I was working. I shot Queen, I shot this new band called Poison, I got a contract for Alice Cooper’s latest album art. And all that’s not including the passion projects like Night Ranger. Yes, I had a week with the Crue’s most recent tour, and the fact is I don’t sleep around with clients. Get off your bullshit, Elliott, and just admit you’re happy I’m home before August.”

Joe, however, was far from being finished with his bullshit. “You don’t sleep with clients? Really, now? That’s what you’re going with, Khris?”

Her eyes swept to his right, where Sav had caught the direction Joe’s comment had turned. She glared. “I said what I said. And it’s fucking true.”

“Which is why you’re here taking pictures of our sessions, again? Because we’re not clients? Or are you about to suggest that what was going on last year up until you left was not ‘sleeping with’ him?”

“No, I specifically said, ‘sleeping _around_ ’ Joe. Which is to say sleeping with strangers or multiple people, or both. As I recall, what happened most of last year, was neither with a stranger, nor multiple people. And since you guys are effectively the only straight clients I have that I’m actually friends with, no part of what I said was untrue. In addition to which, for the majority of that time, like from February until fucking September, I wasn’t working and was only making half my regular salary as part of the paid leave that Ross agreed to. So, not really clients, then, huh?”

“Fuck your loophole crap Khris. Who’s talking bullshit now? You were sleeping with one of your clients. For the majority of last year before deciding you were tired of hanging around with us and going back to you regular work. And seriously, even if you took 14 contracts, you can’t possibly have had no time to call us at all in 7 months.”

Instead of backing down, she rose to the challenge, even as the rest of the men in the room looked on, concerned about the direction this was going. Every time Joe and Khris got into a fight, she spent the next several days passive aggressively avoiding saying anything to Joe, and he spent the next few weeks sulking and writing angry music that they were always sure was about Khris, even if he refused it.  And they eventually let it go and started talking, but still the angst of their bullshit was wearing thin. Khris was constantly getting a rise out of Joe, in one way or another. Seven months away had apparently not changed that.

“As a matter of fact, Joe, you’re right. But all the time I might have had to call was taken up by the ridiculous orgies I was having with Motley Crue every other weekend. You caught me.”

“Stop making out like I’m the unreasonable one, Khris.”

“No, not unreasonable. Never that, Joe.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Unreasonable is too kind. Try ‘controlling asshole with an ego the size of Jupiter,’ that’s much more accurate.” He turned to kick the chair behind him, and then Mutt stepped in.

“Khris, go take a walk. Joe, go the opposite direction.”

“Muuuuuutt!” Joe complained, but to no avail. As the rest of the gents were herded back to work, Khris headed out and downstairs, while Joe took a lap of the large second floor. When he finally made it back, Khris still hadn’t returned, despite there being less places she could go on the first floor. He didn’t question it though, still bothered by her calling him names. And huffy at the 7-month gap in communication.

At the end of their workday, about 2 hours later, they came downstairs to find Khris sitting outside having a smoke and reading a magazine she’d likely gotten from the newsstand across the way. Steve carried her bag, having put everything away for her and brought it down. It was no longer raining, although the roads were still slick from earlier. Some drizzly sunshine peeked out from between the grey clouds. When Steve’s shadow fell over the page, she glanced up, tapping the ash off the end of her cigarette. “Hey darling,” she grinned. “Will you please tell me what you were working on that was just so important to Mutt?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh nothing, just the song that may become the album a bit.”

This made her smile grew as she lifted the cigarette to her lips and closed the magazine. “So it’s about me, then.”

“Undoubtedly. How was Paris? I heard you stopped there.”

“Ross telling you where I am?”

“Only if I ask really nicely, and bribe him.”

That got a laugh out of her. She stood, taking her bag from him. “Where do you guys get a decent drink ‘round here anyways?”

Steve offered his arm, which she took pleasantly, and led the way down the street to the modest flat house they were renting for the duration of recording. He led her up the spacious steps, the rest of the guys only steps behind them, and right into the house. “Well, first we come here to drop our stuff and change clothes so we don’t smell like studio in the bar. Attracts the wrong attention, you know.” That got him another of her laughs.

“And after that?”

“Wait and see. There’s some wine in the kitchen fridge if you’d like to start there while we change.”

She took Steve’s offer as the gents trooped upstairs to their rooms to get on proper bar attire. She sipped wine out of a teacup and flipped through the thick notebook on the table, which contained a variety of lyric snippets from various members, most heavily Joe and Sav. She smiled as she read through it, tweaking here and there, words or phrases, with the blue pen she found on the table. She loved seeing the pieces of songs everywhere, especially the lyrics. They always gave her a shiver because the sensation of words awaiting music gave her anticipation for the feeling they were going to deliver once the sounds of the words aligned with the right music. And with her particular experience of music, that was an especially exciting process.

Sav was the first one changed into his bar clothes and back downstairs. He came into the kitchen to find Khrissy pregaming, and reading through a page of the lyrics book. He smiled and leaned in behind her to see where she’d gotten to.

She noticed his presence and started, a bit of wine splashing out of the teacup. He laughed as he picked up a napkin, offering it to her. She dabbed the little bit of wine, and blushed. “Sorry, I know I’m not really supposed to be reading it, but it’s right here, you know?”

“Where’d you get to, exactly?” He replied, and followed her gaze to the middle of the page. He read aloud, “We are the hungry ones, on a lightning raid...Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame, oh I burn for you; I gotta feel it in my blood, whoa oh...I need your touch, don't need your love, whoa oh...

Ah, what do you think, darling?”

“I think you’re getting better at words that already have a rhythm to them,” she murmured, leaning in slightly. He met her gorgeous green eyes levelly.

“Glad to hear it, love. We’re still toying with what song that might fit best into, though.”

“That’s because the rhythm of the words demands a specific song pace. You aren’t gonna get away with some ballad like whatever it was you were working on today. It needs to be a bit faster, but not full-frontal hard-and-fast. Somewhere in the middle, that marries those two sensations together. Anyways, have you found a song for this one yet?” He realized that she’d flipped to the next page, and was pointing at a short snippet that said, ‘I gotta know tonight, if you're alone tonight. Can't stop this feeling, can't stop this fire.’ He shrugged.

“Kind of. We’re still working out the logic of the musical half of it, and haven’t actually figured out the tempo or order of the words. We think that’s the start of it, but it could easily become a bridge. Or just a verse.”

“Ah. It’s pretty good. Very visually sound.”

It always got to him that she seemed so expert in something that she didn’t work professionally doing. That she seemed to have better insight about their music at times than any of them except maybe Mutt. That when she’d said Pyromania was it for them and would absolutely be their breakthrough in the States, she’d been right. That she’d called Photograph for the gold it was when they’d first recorded it.

Soon the other guys joined the two of them in the kitchen. Sav had retreated to the counter by the fridge, downing a beer and snacking on some pretzels that would’ve been inedible without the drink. Steve sidled into the room first, and sighted Khris, still sipping wine out of a teacup and skimming through pages of Def Leppard lyrics, some as old as the High N Dry days. It wasn’t long at all before Phil joined them, heading over to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. Then came Rick, and Joe was last down, and looking huffy still.

And with everyone present, Steve grabbed Khris, who downed the rest of her drink before following Steve out the door and down the steps. They weren’t going far at all. About 6 doors down was their favorite haunt, a classic pub that played the kind of music they enjoyed and ran karaoke 2 nights a week. Nevermind lots of good booze to go around, at a comparatively cheap price. They stepped inside tonight to find a Queen night. Lots of gents dressed in Queen shirts or Queen-inspired outfits, all while _Jazz_ hit Fat Bottomed Girls played in the background. And on the specials board, a couple of drinks and dishes renamed in honor of the great band for the night, and marked down to boot.

They sidled their way to their preferred table, a corner booth across from the door. And they had barely sat down when a familiar waitress appeared to take their drink orders. Beers all around, except Khris and Phil. Phil ordered a tonic water with lime, and Khris ordered her favorite cocktail, a double old-fashioned. The waitress disappeared to put the order in, and they got comfortable while they waited for their drinks and took in the theme night, which happened about once a month on average, although not with any specific schedule that they had noticed. Fat Bottomed Girls gave way to Radio Ga Ga, and before long the waitress returned with their drinks, as well as a dish of nuts and another of pretzels. They relaxed, and chatted lazily about the album and so on.

Khris was pointedly not talking to Joe and vice versa, but there was enough conversation for those lulls to go mostly unnoticed. When Killer Queen inevitably came on, she hummed along, already onto her 3rd drink. It led Steve to asking, again about the purported trip to Paris. “It was an absolute drag, dearest,” she said lazily, signalling the waitress, inspired to order a glass of Moet et Chandon for after this latest drink. ‘ _To avoid complications, she never kept the same address. In conversation, spoke just like a baroness. Met a man from China..._ ’ the speakers played as the waitress returned, rather quickly, with Khris’ discounted champagne. “I couldn’t hardly stand the sights, and the band wasn’t much either. For the quality of their music, they sure are a right bunch of dicks.”

“Which band was it?” Phil interjected.

“It was Motley Crue, actually. And then I shot Poison right after that, so I had a rough month of annoying rock stars.” She sipped her champagne, considering the travels she’d had. “Got to shoot the boys in Queen right after that though, which wasn’t altogether a bad thing.”

“Are the dicks in Motley Crue as bad as their reputations?” Rick wanted to know.

She glanced up at him, smiled slightly. “Worse, actually. Absolutely terrible group. It isn’t even the free flowing drugs everywhere, you get used to those within the first few hours. It’s absolute dicks that make it their mission to snort or fuck everything in sight, pretty well indiscriminately. But they do make for some interesting photography, I’ll give them that.” Steve interrupted her then.

“Which one’s the worst?”

“I dunno, I didn’t particularly like any of them. Their singer annoyed me the way most married singers do, their guitarist was probably the most tolerable, and their ‘Toxic twins’ are in fact, worse than most stories will say. That freaking bassist doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, and loves to do stupid shit like setting himself on fire to prove he’s tough. And the drummer. Ugh. Has a longtime girlfriend and still expects every woman he meets to greet him on bended knee.”

It was then that Joe decided he couldn’t just leave it. “You’re just bothered because they came onto you. You weren’t bothered by the other women they were hooking up with at all.”

“Quite the contrary, Joe,” she corrected, “I’m bothered because they’re the kind of pricks that consider a declaration of monogamy a challenge and threat, not a legitimate approach to relationships. They’re the kind of pricks that not only try to sleep with every girl they come across that’s even remotely fond of their band, they try to sleep with every girlfriend of every crew member, manager, producer, record executive.. They make it their mission to sleep with women already in relationships, above and beyond the general population. And as I said already, their bassist doesn’t understand that no isn’t a suggestion. It’s disgusting. I already told Ross I refuse to work another contract with them. He’s shooting them himself, or they’re not clients anymore, but I’m not fucking doing it.” Joe laughed at that. “Care to share the joke?”

“I just. You aren’t really surprised that they hit on you, are you Khris? You work with rock stars every damn day. You cannot possibly still be offended by them hitting on you.”

“As I’ve already explained Joe, it isn’t just hitting on me. As you’ve so eloquently put it, I’m used to that by now unfortunately. It’s forcing oneself on me that I took exception to, almost as much as Nikki Sixx took exception to his balls meeting my knee.” She shrugged. “All things considered, I think we found a workable agreement thereafter but I’m not trying to work with them anymore anyways. Two of their crew members also felt me up, and their tour manager demanded to see my tits in order to let me backstage initially regardless of my pass. And usually the crews are the ones with actual manners of some kind.”

“Workable agreement?” Steve asked, as Sav bristled at the thought of those rude pricks feeling her up, that bassist harassing her.

“Well once I kneed him, he called assault and I pointed out that if that’s how he wanted to play, I have a better lawyer and no reputation to save. And unlike the other shit, he can’t afford a charge of sexual assault so if I agreed to let it go, he’d do the same. Not really what I would have done under normal circumstances, but the fucker’s got more money than god practically, so I just let it go. Mostly.”

Joe didn’t like that either, it seemed. He got all huffy and quiet, and this led to Khrissy waving down the waitress. She ordered another glass of champagne, and a bottle of Joe’s favorite import beer. The rest of the evening passed in relative calm. No more outbursts from Joe or Khris, and they closed down the bar that night. And the closing time song was, naturally, a reprise of Killer Queen. They spilled out into the streets arm-in-arm, singing loudly and only slightly off-key. “ _Perfume came naturally from Paris; for cars she couldn't care less. Fastidious and precise, she's a Killer Queen. Gunpowder, gelatin, dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind, anytime_.” As always, they sung it with the tiny redhead squished between Steve and Sav in mind. While everyone knew it couldn’t possibly be _actually_ about Khris...there were still a lot of jokes that it was a love letter from Freddie to their Khris. When they got back to the house, they split up - Khris, Sav, and Steve heading to the kitchen, while the rest of them, exhausted, headed upstairs. Khris grabbed one of the cans out the fridge and cracked into a soda, returning to sit at the dining table and read more old and new lyrics. Steve grabbed a beer and headed up shortly thereafter. Rick meanwhile, grabbed a water and sat down across from Khris.

They sat in silence for a bit, her occasionally turning a page or taking a sip of her drink. Finally, he asked, “Do you want me to show you to your room, love?”

She looked up, and was caught up again in his gaze. Those gorgeous blue eyes always gave her pause. She was sure she’d never get used to them, or the rest of his pretty face. It made her smile. “If it’s yours, then I happen to be well acquainted with its location, baby.” That made him blush, though she wasn’t sure if it was the endearment or the obvious proposition in her tone. Either way, she loved the color creeping into his cheeks, the way he dropped his gaze to his water for a moment.

Finally, he spoke up, raising his gaze back to hers. “I wasn’t so sure you hadn’t decided you were done with me when you left in September. You didn’t exactly leave in the usual way.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure how long I’d be gone, but I didn’t want you waiting around for me while I was,” she countered softly.

“Why not? Khris it’s not like I’m out here trying to bang my way around like a lot of the guys you meet. And for that matter, given how much of last year we spent, well, together, I was under the impression that there was something there, only for you to leave without even a proper goodbye. It wasn’t just unusual, it stung.”

“I...thought you’d prefer it if -”

“If you left without so much as a backwards glance, only to call Steve and no one else for the next 7 months? Yeah, my real dream in life is having the girl I l-” she had to stop him there.

“Don’t you say it. It’s one thing to say that in bed, Rick, but here and now?”

That made him glare. “Yes here, yes now. Damn it Khris, it hurt me. Don’t you get it? I was falling for you, and you decided to just run off before it got complicated, it had nothing to do with sparing my feelings because a clear goodbye, and maybe a call or two, would’ve done that much better. Or any kind of closure, for that matter.”

“Rick. It was already complicated. I was going back to work eventually anyway, I couldn’t afford not to, and it isn’t like your label was gonna start paying me again at that point. They made that clear back in February. And with the pissing contest Joe was starting every 3 days, I figured it was better to go back to work sooner, and save you guys all the annoyance of Joe’s incessant crap. Especially since everyone’s writing was suffering for it.”

“I get all that, but no goodbye? No calls? That isn’t saving anyone anything.”

“I was being serious earlier about my busy schedule. Once I got back, Ross put me on the first bid he could, and immediately put bids on as many open contracts as he could find. He subsequently won all of them, and we both spent the last 6.5 months running circles around the globe after different bands because Ross doesn’t know the meaning of moderation. I wasn’t in the same time zone more than 2 days, and it’s difficult enough doing that level of travel without also attempting to call anyone. The only calls Steve got were because he called the home office, had Stacey put him through whenever she would agree to it because she knew I wouldn’t be working or sleeping or flying. Altogether I think I talked to Steve 5 times in 7 months, love. It wasn’t like I was trying to avoid you. I was trying to not cause more drama when I left, but after that it was just getting caught up in work and travelling.” He considered that, even as she softly added, “I didn’t really mean to be gone so long, and then all of a sudden Ross made it sound like I’d be working through August, without managing to mention that he’d picked up a new contract with your label. Something about Mutt’s car accident and rush back into the studio led the them wanting to renew the photo contract, and Ross was ready to take it. He gave it to me the second he won it, and now, 2 weeks later, here I am.”

“Are you saying you’ll be here through summer?” Something in him shifted, something akin to hope.

“The contract’s through August, with up to 2 extensions, depending on the discretion of the label and the progress of Def Leppard’s latest album. First negotiation’s mid-July.”

“Oh. Okay, well that settles that. Now explain to me what we’re doing.”

“Well, Rick...” the way her voice caressed his name made his heart flutter as he met her eyes. “That depends a lot on what you want.”


	2. Second Hand News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a fight, a bit of a temper. Figures for a ginger.

_“I know there's nothing to say; Someone has taken my place... When times go bad, when times go rough, won't you lay me down in tall grass and let me do my stuff?”_

**Mid-March, 1979**

They came into the living room, shaking off the rain and the March chill. Khris immediately headed into the kitchen to put on the kettle, while Rick shed his boots and coat. They chattered furiously as they settled into the kitchen about the latest Fleetwood Mac news and the drama at school this week. Rick asked if she’d heard about Joy’s most recent tryst with a footie player that wasn’t her boyfriend, and Khris countered that Joy’s goings-on hardly counted as news.

Settling into tea with crisps, their chatting and giggling continued. Eventually, they’d finished their tea and snacks, and moved along to discussing the drum kit he wanted to save up for eventually, and the camera she’d had an eye on since January. Soon, their conversation moved again, and she asked if they were still good for Friday’s outing she’d planned. This time, she actually had Ray’s permission to visit the show with supervision, and Rick had previously agreed. Her question, however, left him looking surprised.

“I...Khris, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can. I have band practice.”

“You what?” her eyes shimmered in surprise, and she tilted her head curiously. “When did you join a new band?”

“Back in November, when exams were starting to get going and everything in school was getting busier. We’ve only just started really working hard, so it was band practice once a week up until last month. I completely forgot we’d planned on going to a show, love. It just slipped my mind.”

“That you joined a new band slipped your mind?”

“Well, no. The band practice Friday slipped my mind, but I didn’t mention the band because you were in the midst of exams, and then you were so busy  with the holidays and it just came and went.”

“Well, that’s alright Rick, but I wish you’d told me. I’d love to hear what this new band is doing. And you know how much I enjoy your music. Plus we could’ve celebrated you getting a better band back when you were first hired. Now it just seems out of place.”

“That’s fine, love, I don’t need the celebration. Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard the music they’re making, they’re kind of a Sheffield staple.” That caught her attention, and her eyebrows went up in surprise.

“Oh! Well which band hired you? It must be one of those metal outfits, right? You wouldn’t really be caught dead with another punk group again?”

“No, it’s rock. You’ve probably heard the music, but I dunno if you’d know the name.”

“Well who is it?”

“I’m working for Def Leppard. They’re a great group of guys and since I -” he trailed off, noticing her expression changing and the tension between them growing. “Khris...?” he dared ask.

“You...got hired by Def Leppard? Over 4 months ago? And I’m only just hearing about this?!” Her voice raised with each question, as her anger and shock propelled her to her feet, and he was unfathomably confused at the sudden outburst.

“Well yes, I got hired right around my birthday and started jamming with them. I didn’t record their EP, they finished that with this other bloke, but they’re really fun and it’s been a great few months and we’re finally moving to playing proper clubs and whatnot in the region and I was -” She cut him off again.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! That’s low, even for you!”

He had seen Khris’ temper before, but having the sheer fury of this girl directed at you, that was a different experience altogether.

“Rick!? How long were you planning on playing for one of my _favorite_ bands before you told me?” Absolutely scandalized, she tossed her hair back from her face, and turned to grab a cola from the fridge. When she turned to face him again, her eyes contained only slightly less anger. “Well?” she demanded, annoyed.

“Khris, I didn’t think it was that important. Right now, it’s still mostly a weekend gig. And I’ve only been working with them since November, really. It hasn’t been that long...”

“Rick. This is one of my _favorite_ bands. Like, I only listen to Fleetwood Mac a little more often. And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you. My best friend in the whole country, if not the world, is working for one of my favorite bands, because, what, it hadn’t been long enough?”

The logic was still kind of lost on him, but he shrugged. “It didn’t feel that important. Khris, it’s just a weekend job. We’re hoping to make more of it in the coming year, we’re already playing more local clubs with better reception than my old bands, but right now it’s next to nothing. And you didn’t exactly tell me that you even liked Def Leppard. So  how was I to know how important it was to tell you which band had hired me?”

“I have the EP,  Rick. I dragged you to like 3 of their evening shows last year against my brother’s wishes. What do you mean you didn’t know I liked Def Leppard?”

“Okay. I’m sorry. It just didn’t feel like that big a deal. And I didn’t want you getting excited over nothing, either. Because these guys are older than me and I wasn’t even sure they’d want to keep me around because the other bands sure didn’t. Besides, if you’d been making a big deal out of band practice instead of focusing on school you probably would have noticed sooner, Khris.”

That made her eyes go wide, and he realized a second too late what he’d said wrong. But before he could even begin to explain himself better, or apologize, she cut him off with words drenched in cold, calculated fury. “Are you suggesting that instead of paying mind to my studies, something you and Ray and everybody else continues to insist is important to my future because ‘taking pictures isn’t real work,’ I should have been out being your personal groupie on weekends, Rick? Is that what you’re saying? Instead of maybe you being able to say, oh yeah, my old band disbanded but luckily I’m working for a new one and maybe you should come see us play, in a maybe-lit venue instead of some back field like last year?”

“Look, Khris, I didn’t mean -” she wouldn’t let him finish.

“Rick, I really think it’s best if you go home. I need to study, which we aren’t doing, and you probably have band practice or something to get to.” The remainder of his attempts at protest fell on deaf ears, so after a few more minutes trying to explain himself, he got up and headed home.

When Ray got home from work an hour-and-a-half later, he found the kitchen oddly devoid of studying teenagers, and the sound of Fleetwood Mac’s eponymous album being blasted loudly from the back of the house. He didn’t need to investigate to know it was coming from Khris’ room, or to know that she had the door closed. It didn’t damper the volume level she was using much, but it did muffle any other sounds coming from that sector, and kept him from being able to get her attention for the time being. Just as well, he thought, and got to work starting dinner. It was a pleasant enough soundtrack to listen to while cooking.

About an hour later, he’d finished dinner, and thankfully, she’d decreased the noise level a bit. Enough she’d be able to hear him call her for dinner, but not so much she couldn’t still drown out whatever else was going on. He knew the feeling. And sure enough, she appeared just as he was about to head to the back of the house to get her attention, probably having really noticed the wonderful smell of roasting chicken and veggies. They sat and started eating without comment or conversation, and he waited for Khris to start the conversation, hearkening back to the drafts of house rules they’d written up when she first moved in. Despite many rules, including _Don’t start a conversation at dinner about my day if I’m in a bad mood_ having later been rewritten or discarded, he still found many of the ideas to still be good rules of thumb.

“Rick and I had a fight today,” she finally started speaking without preamble after having gotten through most of her vegetables. She started dishing herself more as Ray picked up his end of the conversation.

“Do you want to talk about why you two fought?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted, shrugging. “He was being dumb, and it made me angry, so I made him leave. I might have been a bit unreasonable, but then, I still think I was mostly right.”

“I see.” He didn’t ask more, honoring her wishes regarding not talking about it.

“How was work?”

“Oh, the usual. Boss on my ass, Joe too busy to want to come to dinner, and what’s worse, they’ve transferred my favorite coworker to a different line. I’m thinking I’ll have to start looking elsewhere if this keeps up. Absolutely discriminatory, but what can I do?”

“Probably not much,” she said. “Still, you could try going to the factory manager, see what they say. They might be on your side, considering what a good worker you are. And the hours you put in there.”

He shrugged. “I doubt it. There’s a reason that prick is the manager and I’m not.”

They lapsed once again into silence, and remained quiet throughout the rest of dinner. She helped Ray tidy the kitchen after they’d finished eating, and just as she was about to duck out back to her room, he requested she lower the volume if she was going to continue to listen to music. She nodded, and bounced out of the room, leaving Ray wondering what Rick could possibly have done to earn his sister’s ire this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your support. I've had this story kicking around in my head for years at this point and finally felt like it had to be shared. Hopefully you guys continue to enjoy it. And sorry about the small, filler chapter here. Baby steps. Hoping to keep updating as regularly as possibly.


	3. Never Going Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, we learn a little about Khris' beginning.

_“You don't know what it means to win. Come down and see me again. Been down one time, been down two times; I'm never going back again...”_

**April 26, 1977**

It was raining. Of course it was - every time she visited in England, it was raining. God forbid it should be anything other than cold and wet here. Why should her moving here change anything?

She schlepped off the plane, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and found her brother waiting at the gate for her. She could admit it, she’d missed Ray. He was the only member of her family she had ever got along with, and it had been over 3 years since he’d moved here from Chicago to go to school. Naturally, he had spent hardly any time visiting since, and had also neglected to call for the most part. It felt like an abandonment at the time, much like this current situation felt a lot like the same thing. At least Ray seemed happy to see her.

Silently, Khris walked toward baggage claim with her brother following, already talking about how much she’d like the place she was moving to, how much better the schools were, and so on. She figured he had to be talking just to fill space. And really, she could feel a bit bad for him, considering how nervous Ray must be. It was one thing to visit for a couple of days, that seemed reasonable for anyone. But to have to move in with her barely adult brother? Moving to a completely new country to live with him was bad enough for her, but to have a 13 year-old sister moving in and disrupting his life, that had to be a lot to adjust to.

She picked up the surplus duffel bag at first pass on the belt, and turned to Ray, to follow him to the car. It made him stop chatting, as he now had to remember where he’d left his car, so they walked in silence to the car. Once there, she allowed Ray to help put her belongings in the boot of the car, and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

As Ray pulled out of the space and headed away from the terminal, she glanced back to watch an airplane take off. They drove in silence for a moment, before Ray reached over and turned on the cassette player. The rest of the hour’s journey from Manchester Airport to Sheffield was rather uninteresting. They listened to Ray’s Queen cassette while Khris watched the countryside pass by. She was so lost in her own thoughts by the time they passed into Sheffield from the countryside that it took a full 5 minutes for her to register that Ray had lowered the volume on the cassette so he could point out different things as they drove through.

“And there’s one of the public secondary schools,” he said, pointing to a large grey building that seemed authoritarian and foreboding. “You won’t be going there, but it’s always good to know where things are. You’re going somewhere closer to home, and it’s by far a better school,” he continued. Khris turned to look at her brother, still navigating the streets with ease.

“Secondary school?” she asked, unsure.

Ray nodded, “It’s something similar to junior high and high school back home, but not split up in the same way.”

“Well then, how’s it split?”

“The grades are divided by age, just like back home, so you’ll be just finishing year 8 now.” He turned left off the main thoroughfare onto the street that took them right past an old spoon factory and a few other, clearly derelict buildings. It looked to Khris to be suspiciously close in class to the old neighborhood they’d grown up in, back in Chicago. “Secondary is subdivided into lower and upper school,” he continued, not noticing his sister’s attention shifting away from his words. “And then you finish secondary school when you’re 16 and that’s considered leaving age, so you can elect to continue education in some form, like vocational work, or sixth form schools. Or you can move into the workforce, although the local council seriously recommends that 16-year-olds pursue further education, what with the drop in factory jobs around here.”

They’d made another turn, and were suddenly in what was clearly a residential neighborhood. One that was reminiscent to Khris of the neighborhood she’d left behind back home. It was clearly a low-income area, some of the houses looking mighty old, and even the newest looking ones had clearly been built in the last century, and only recently refurbished with new paint or siding. Many of the homes didn’t have cars out front, and there wasn’t a ton of space for car ports by the ones that had them, so they sat out front on the street. He was still driving, and she was eyeing each house suspiciously, wondering which one was Ray’s. He could clearly afford a car, and the station wagon was actually a fairly nice model, dating back to 1969 instead of the much older models sitting along the road. But that didn’t mean his house was nice, if this was the neighborhood he lived in.

Another turn, left, then right, and she found that they were driving past a small park. It was late enough in the day that there were a few kids running around in the park, kicking a soccer ball around (football in this area, she had to remind herself.) There were some adults walking the perimeter, or sitting on benches, and there was a small fenced in area that was clearly designed as a dog run. This was honestly the nicest thing she’d seen in the neighborhood so far. She noticed that the houses on this street were notably nicer, if only in that they’d been refurbished or repainted slightly more recently. And one more turn left them on a dead-end lane.

Ray went all the way to the end, turning around and stopping in front of the corner lot. The house was actually fairly nice. It had clearly been recently refurbished, perhaps in the ‘50s. And the paint job was even newer, probably dating to Ray’s moving in. The siding was a gorgeous sky blue that stood in defiance of the weather, and the accents were all cream and rust red, nice colors to offset the slate grey roof. But much like every other house, it clearly dated to the last century, and it didn’t exactly do anything to improve the expectation of a low-income area.

Now that they were parked, she got out of the car and went to the back to grab her duffel. Ray beat her there, and grinned as he closed the boot of the car, her duffel slung over one shoulder, backpack over the other. She tried hard not to sulk too much as he led her up the garden walk to the door, a rather new looking one that was painted grey like the roof. He unlocked the door, stepping into the house. Where normally, an English house would have a foyer, then a hallway with a best room on one side, and kitchen across from that, this house had a rather open plan. There wasn’t a foyer, just a small tiled area with a coat rack and shoe basket. Immediately off of which was some nice blue shag carpeting that delineated the wide open living room. He’d done away with separate sitting and best rooms, instead creating a lovely living room that was reminiscent of the house they grew up in. The peek of the kitchen that Khris could see made her think very specifically of the ‘50s, due to the mix of color and floor choices that were visible, and the shag carpeting continued from the living room to the twisted hallway and back of the house.

“So this is home?” she asked, kicking her shoes off and stepping onto the carpet.

“Yeah. It’s not a whole lot, but it’s ours.” he said, some teasing evident in his tone. He similarly kicked off his shoes, and then offered, “Wanna see your room? It’s back this way,” he stepped toward the hallway, and she followed. He led her along the hallway, which went straight back before turning sharply to the right. There was a door at the end of the hallway, and 2 more to the right as well as one to the left. Ray indicated the door at the end of the hall, saying “That’s my room. And on your right is the bathroom, and the hall closet.” He gestured to each door, and then turned to the left, opening the other door.

The room was hardwood, instead of carpeting, and there wasn’t much there. A single bed with plain white sheets against the right hand wall, a desk and chair under the window, a wide stretch of wall before a mirrored sliding door that was probably the closet. And a lot of open floor space. She stepped through the doorway, taking it all in. It was easily twice the size of the room she’d had back home, despite the overall house being so much smaller. She looked back at Ray. “This is mine?”

“Yeah. It’s the smaller of the two rooms, but it should be enough, I hope. I didn’t want to decorate or anything,” he continued, not seeming to notice her shock. “In case you had specific ideas. The last thing I wanted was a pink room with ruffles or something if that wasn’t what you’d like. And I left the walls bare because it was my office before so I figured that would do for now.”

“For now?” she asked, finally getting over her initial shock of having her own bedroom, and such a large one.

“Well of course, we can paint the walls basically any color you’d like, and if you want to decorate the door or get a different bed or move the furniture, you can. It’s your room, after all. I’d like it to be comfortable for you.” He watched her face carefully. He had his own memories of the house in Chicago, of their father and the revolving door of women. Of not being able to choose your room or anything in it because god forbid you cost money or time...

He was relieved to see the last of her sulk fall away, replaced with a small smile. “Any color?” she wondered, walking over to inspect the closet.

“Well, I’d like it if you’d avoid black or a similar color for all 4 walls, but I’m happy to pick up virtually any other color you want. And you can feel free to paint the door as well, god knows how boring white can get.”

She nodded, considering the space. Looking back at Ray, she smiled and asked, “Have you got more of the blue you used on the outside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's looking like this'll be a monthly update, give or take a few days. I promise the next chapter will actually include Def Leppard, but I had to give a rundown of Khris or the brain gremlins wouldn't stop yelling.


	4. White Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and some Def Leppard history, not that the two are so different, really.  
> Hey, every band has its ups and downs (and downs, and downs) right?

_ “Such a lonely road you ride, it’s not easy when you don’t know why. Such a heavy load you hide; you never leave no matter how you try.” _

**November 25, 1990**

Surprisingly, it wasn’t raining in Holland when she stepped off the plane. It was overcast, but that was pretty normal for November. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in Europe, but she knew it had been a while. About as long since she’d seen everyone. She took deep breaths as she walked toward baggage claim. Shortly thereafter, she headed for the rental area, determined to get a nice rental car this time. The drive up country was long enough, she wanted to have a modicum of luxury for the journey.

When she finally left the airport in the black Porsche, she’d successfully managed not to think about the drama she was driving toward for a whole two hours. Her mind turned that way now, wondering what they’d say about her tardiness. A couple days was one thing, but nearly 3 weeks late made her certain she’d get an earful from Mutt, if nothing else. She wondered, too, if Steve had gotten his way and returned to work on the album, or if they’d truly insisted on the leave of absence. She wondered, too, which situation would be preferable.

The drive was long, but not long enough to bury the guilt. She couldn’t help but feel that the way things were disintegrating were, at least partially, her own fault. She tried very hard to remember when last she’d seen any of them, and finally came up with February of that year. A brief holiday to visit them between jobs that hadn’t been very long, but had successfully cemented just how bad things had gotten in the post-Hysteria haze. And now it was November, and if the tabloids were right, their next album would be DOA if it didn’t arrive by 1991. And even the threat of their careers falling apart paled in comparison to the personal troubles.

She made it to the studio in one piece. Well, aside from her foggy memory. Sitting outside the large country house in the rental, she considered her feelings. She wasn’t sure whether the trepidation was stronger than the guilt, but both were present. After 20 minutes of just sitting and thinking, she realized she couldn’t stall any longer. She pulled the prescription bottle from her purse, taking 2 small blue tablets before returning the bottle to her purse and climbing out of the car. She walked up to the house with her luggage, knocking loudly.

The door swung open a moment later to reveal Rick. The annoyance in his face was replaced by genuine shock. “Khris?” he asked, in something akin to a stage whisper.

“Yeah. Hi Rick. Mind if I come inside, it’s getting a little windy out here.” He stepped aside to let her in, offering to take one of her bags off her hands. She just shook her head, mumbling something about being fine.

When she hadn’t shown up on the originally agreed date of November 1st, they had been a little surprised. Figuring it for flight delays, they hadn’t started worrying til the 3rd, and when they’d called Ross’ office on the 5th, Stacey had told them that Khris had left the home office on the 1st as planned and should have been there by now. They had worried for a few more days, attempting to contact her any way they could think of, and had finally given up, assuming she had decided she didn’t want to work with them. Opening the door that day to her face had been a huge shock to the system for Rick, and he was certain everyone else would be similarly surprised to see her.

“Shall I show you to your room, so you can get comfortable?” he offered, somewhat stiffly. There was just so much unsaid, starting with her 25-day disappearance, he couldn’t manage a kinder tone. Not that she seemed to notice, or care.

“Sure. I’m assuming upstairs?”

He nodded, and led the way. Her room was upstairs, to the left, and 3 doors down from the staircase. She stepped into the room, dropping her bags on the bed, and turned to him. “Thanks. Where’s the studio?” He gave her a brief description of the layout, to which she nodded and said, “I’ll be down in a few.”

Heading back downstairs, Rick tried to take it in. To find something other than shock to feel about her showing up. He finally settled on concern for her overall appearance and manner, as he stepped into the kitchen. It was a huge country kitchen, with a wide hearth across from the door, a huge island, and plenty of cabinets and counter space for cooking for a fleet of farmhands. Or a fleet of hungry rockers. The rest of the band were hanging out in there, as Mutt had called a half hour work break to do whatever it was he did. Joe and Phil were snacking, and Sav was sitting at the island, sipping tea and reading his book. Phil glanced up, and asked, “Traveling salesman?”

Rick sat at the island, picking up his cup of tea, and shook his head. “Missing photographer,” he murmured. The silence that followed was to be expected, as the other 3 processed what he’d told them. Their faces betrayed the concern, confusion, and surprise they were feeling, as they stared at him. Finally Joe broke the silence.

“Wh-where is she, Rick?”

“In her room, getting settled. She said she’d be down in a bit.”

They remained in silence, each man stuck in his own thoughts. It had been like that a lot recently, ever since they’d sent Steve off on his leave of absence. Five minutes later, they heard footsteps approaching, and tried to steel themselves for whatever was about to occur. Khris appeared in the doorway, her dark red curls pulled up in a loose ponytail. It had grown out somewhat since they’d last seen her, but didn’t have nearly the length she’d maintained in the ‘80s. She hadn’t changed clothes, just removed her coat and shoes. They took it in, noticing small details of her appearance that caused them to worry; the glassy eyes, the shaky hands. She clearly hadn’t seen much sun this year either, as her eyes had a certain sallow look around the edges, and her freckles stood out in stark contrast against the pale skin. Where normally she’d have a healthy glow, her skin was virtually white as a sheet. But mostly it was the dead, glassy look in her eyes that worried all four of them. That, and the false smile. They knew what fake smiles looked like, they’d seen enough of them this year from Steve, and Khris wasn’t fooling anyone.

When she spoke, she spoke softly. Any hard edges in her demeanor had disappeared somehow. There was no fire in her tone. “Hi guys. Sorry I’m late. How’s the album coming?”

Joe was the one to respond. The rest of them were too surprised by this ghost of the woman they’d known to be able to say anything. “Khris,” her eyes landed on him. And still, nothing. What was that saying, he thought, the lights are on but no one’s home? That was what her eyes felt like. “The album’s coming. How are you?” He danced toward the personal, concern creeping into his tone toward the end.

She felt the concern and deflected, adding a little cheer into her tone as she replied, “Oh, I’m doing good. Got a little hung up back in the States is all. But I’m here now. And apparently no one’s working.”

“Well, we were,” Phil countered. “Mutt’s giving us a tea break so he can do some editing in quiet. Khris, where were you?”

Again, she heard the concerned tone, saw it in his eyes, and pushed back against it. “I told you, I was stuck in the States-”

“Yes, but you weren’t,” Phil cut her off. She met his gaze, and behind the glassy exterior something flickered, something like indignance. It wasn’t very strong, though, and disappeared quickly. He found annoyance rising to the surface, at her indifference. “We called the home office because we were  _ worried _ about you Khris, when you didn’t show up. Stacey and Ross swore that you left Chicago on the first. The first, Khris! And now, here you are, 24 days later, acting as if you’re only a few hours late. It’s bullshit that you got hung up in the States, and bigger bullshit that you don’t seem to give half a fuck that you’re so bloody late. We didn’t know what the fuck happened to you, excuse us for being concerned. Especially with everything going on with Steve.” His tone had risen, and her face had remained calm and inexpressive. Until he mentioned Steve. Something flickered across her face, and disappeared again. It looked almost like guilt to him, but he couldn’t be sure.

It took her a moment to reply. Her brain couldn’t really keep up with normal conversation, what with the fog. When she did, it was slowly, and so much more calmly than any tone they’d ever heard her use before. “I...look, Phil, I’m sorry that I’m late. I’m sorry that you were worried. I didn’t mean for that to happen. It just..I got really caught up and I...” She trailed off, and after a moment, said “I just. It’s been a weird time for me and I’d really rather not discuss it. It’s just been a lot.”

“So you aren’t going to tell us where you were? Or why you were 24 days late getting here?” Joe demanded, feeling his own indignation rising.

Her eyes flicked back to his, and there was something sitting behind the glassy exterior now. It looked a lot like guilt. “I just really can’t talk about it. But I’m okay, I’m here, and I’m prepared to work. I’d just work a lot better if I can be left to my own a little. That’s all.”

It was Sav who processed the calm, the glassy exterior, and realized the reason. It made him angry, and confused, and he knew the guys would be just as angry, if not more so. He demanded, loudly and angrily, “Are you fucking high right now?” The other 3 looked back to her, their expressions changing.

“It’s not...I’m...Not the way you mean,” she struggled under their gazes to find the words. “It’s really complicated, Rick.” He heard the caress in her tone, pronouncing his name just as she always had. It made it sting more, that she was high as a fucking kite.

“Complicated how?”

Something in her expression changed. It was like pain, but through a thick fog. “Complicated as in hard to explain. There’s a lot going on and I..” seeing his expression, she paused, and sighed. “It’s prescription. I went to a doctor in Chicago about some memory stuff, and they weren’t sure what was wrong, and it was nearly November already, so I left and when I got to my layover in England I missed my next flight to Holland because of some weird screwup at the airline. Then I decided to go home to Sheffield, visit Ray, see a doctor, and try to figure it out.” She realized Sav and Joe were both about to cut in, and steamrolled ahead.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone, so I just let Ross know I was going to be extra late getting here because of some personal stuff, and I went. I got referred from general, to internal, to neurology, and then to psychiatry. They didn’t have any answers though, they just said I was having anxiety and needed to be working a little less. It took them 2 weeks, and they finally sent me on my way with a goddamn prescription for Klonopin, essentially the same thing I’ve been on for the majority of the last 3 months anyway. And so I rebooked my flight and I came here as early as I could afford.” Toward the end of her explanation, her tone had changed, to resignation. “So yes, I’m here, I’m high, and I’d like to actually work instead of having a pity parade about this crap.”

The last of that statement, came out at a perfect time. Mutt called them back to work, and they went. Khris appeared a moment later, camera in hand. Mutt caught sight of her, and immediately groaned. At least some things never changed. He made a crack about her lateness, and then gave her the cursory warning about disruptions before returning to what he was doing. And throughout the remainder of the day, they worked hard on the song they’d been writing. All while the explanation Khris had given rolled around in their heads. What did she mean by memory problems, and why hadn’t the horde of doctors been able to find something more?

That evening, wrapping everything up, they began discussing dinner. They eventually decided to send Mutt in search of some takeout in town, hopefully curry or thai food. Khris had disappeared as soon as they called wrap, and when they meandered into the kitchen, she was noticeably absent. They assumed she’d gone upstairs, and didn’t think anything of it until Mutt returned with the food. It was curry, enough for everyone including Khris. So they sent Rick up to check on her, thinking Rick would be the one she’d be most likely to not yell at.

He returned, 5 minutes later, alone. The dark expression he had worried them, but he didn’t say anything, just grabbed a plate and began loading it with food. Once he’d fully loaded it down, he stuck it in the oven, and grabbed himself a plate. He sat down with them at the island a minute later. “She’s not coming down?” Joe asked, concern heavy in his voice.

Rick sighed. “She said she’s not feeling well and would rather have a nap. She might be down later for food but she didn’t think so.” They were mostly quiet after that, concern for Khris weighing as heavily on their minds as concern for Steve had been.

The next morning, they woke as usual and met in the kitchen for breakfast by 10. Khris appeared not long after, yawning but not looking particularly rested. They’d already made waffles, eggs, and sausage, and discovered her untouched food in the oven. It had gone in the fridge, and they’d carried on with what they were doing. Until her appearance, anyway.

“Morning,” Joe tossed the greeting at her, and she tilted her head.

“Good morning,” her voice was still soft, like yesterday, but she looked slightly more alert than she had before.

“How’d you sleep?” Phil asked, careful to keep his tone light.

She offered a smile, a somewhat wry expression, and said, “Well enough, from what I can tell.” She sat, and Joe asked her if she wanted anything to eat or drink. “I’ll have some tea. And maybe a bit of sausage.” He passed her a plate, on which there was half a waffle and a few discs of sausage. He knew she loved waffles, and held out hope that she’d eat what he’d put on the plate. He brought her tea when he came over with his own food and sat.

They ate in quiet for a minute, and couldn’t help but notice she was spending more time drinking tea and shoving her food around the plate than eating it. “No appetite?” Phil finally asked curiously.

She looked up, a little surprise in her expression. “Ever since I got put on this new stuff, brand name Klonopin, it’s been pretty suppressed. I get in maybe one meal a day. And somehow I’m still gaining weight..” Khris shrugged, sipping her tea. “The doctors all said that would be normal and it should return in 5 to 7 days. But it’s been nearly 10 and I’m still having trouble keeping food down.”

Already knowing the answer, Rick couldn’t help but ask, “Did you manage to eat anything last night?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think I just kind of slept.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure. I fell asleep not long after you came and asked me about dinner. I can’t remember waking up at all, but I might have.” That meant she’d slept from about 8 til 10 in the morning, the better part of 14 hours. They’d never known Khris to sleep that heavily for that long. It made them more worried, and a quiet fell between them as they considered the situation.

Mutt came in about 11 to herd them to work, and saw them discussing something in hushed tones. Khris was conspicuously absent, and he asked about it. “She’s in the studio waiting for us to get started,” Sav answered.

“So what’re we discussing so quietly in here?” Mutt demanded.

“We’re worried about her. She’s barely eaten since she’s been here, and she slept something like 14 hours last night. Jet lag wouldn’t account for all of that, especially with Khris. She’s never been affected this hard by jet lag, or anything else, really.” Rick explained.

Mutt considered them, and then walked right through to the studio. He found Khris stretched out on the sofa, fussing with her camera. She seemed largely alert, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She glanced up, noticing his presence, and upon realizing who it was, asked “What’re you staring at?”

“You,” he answered curtly.

“Why?”

“Well I have a bunch of rockstars in the other room worrying themselves half to death over you, I’m guessing because they think you’re dying. So I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”

That made her pause. “Oh. Well, I’m having some health problems. I’m on a scrip for Klonopin. And that’s largely what led to my being so late getting here...”

“You having seizures?”

“What? No!”

“Akathisia?”

“What? What’s that?”

“It’s a...movement thing. Like shaking and lack of coordination?”

“How do you...no, I  don’t have that.”

“Then why the fuck were they sticking you on Klonopin, or any other benzo for that matter?”

She eyed him. “The fourth doctor, after everyone else had a go and told me there wasn’t anything wrong and I was just stressed, diagnosed me with panic disorder and anxiety, and prescribed Klonopin.”

“Well Khris, not to come off as an ass, but I severely doubt that panic disorder is your issue, given that you have a tendency to externalize your frustrations and other general states of mind. Not that I’m a doctor, but why didn’t you keep trying?”

“Because the last one was a psychiatrist, and refused to hear me out about most anything. He only focused on the stuff I was saying about my workload. And even most of that went in one ear and out the other. And with every other doctor writing me off as soon as the first test would come back negative, it got to be just absolutely exhausting.”

He nodded. “You know the guys are worried about you?”

“I kind of assumed they’d be, that’s one of the reasons I didn’t wanna explain my being so late. That, and not really knowing what’s wrong. But the Klonopin doesn’t really help much so far. It hasn’t decreased the brain fog or improved my memory at all. And the pain days have gotten more frequent, and I’m nauseous with no appetite,” she didn’t mention the weight gain, or the deep down sense that something was going terribly wrong with her body, something that she couldn’t figure out but could very much hurt her if she didn’t get better.

Mutt shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, but I do happen to know a really good one.”

“Where?”

“In England, outside of London. You’ll have to fly there pretty much as soon as possible, and you’ll very much need to have money, because it’ll probably take some time to sort stuff, but he’s a good friend and if I call him, he’ll do everything he can to fit you in.”

“Take some time to sort stuff? Mutt, I’ve already spent weeks trying to run down an answer for this. What makes this guy better than what I’ve already been doing? What makes him worth the time and effort?”

“He’s a specialist. Specifically a rheumatologist. Lots of expertise in lots of stuff, actually, but that’s the one that he got a degree in.”

“But -”

“Now look,” he continued, not allowing her to protest further. “I’m gonna call him and I’m going to get you an appointment with the man. And you’re not going to tell a single damned soul on this earth or any other that I did this for you, because I have a reputation to uphold, and I can’t very well go around being nice to you. The boys would have my balls, if not worse.” She nodded, slowly.

“Okay, Mutt. Just...just one question I have.” he eyed her, but didn’t wave it off. So she sighed and asked, “Why exactly are you being nice to me?”

“Because you being miserable is only fun if I’m causing it. Otherwise it’s just a pain in the ass, and leads to some very distracted musicians.”

“Okay. Deal.”


	5. Feelin' That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to the young and the drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, it's not technically summer, but the sentiment of the lyrics is what mattered here.

_ “A new road’s waiting, you touched my life. Oh, soft and warm on a summer’s night...” _

**April 23, 1979**

“We’re absolutely going.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. And you know why? Because it’s your birthday. And because Rick has called every day this week to ask me if you can go, and has repeatedly asked me to tell you how sorry he is, and tell you how we’ll both get in to see them, no charge.”

“But he should’ve -”

“Save it. You can hold a grudge later, I wanna see them play. I hear Rick’s quite good. Besides, he didn’t do anything wrong, really. Khris, you gotta realize sometimes people forget. It’s not always a personal thing.”

“Forget? How could he just forget what band he’s playing in, Ray? That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, but he might’ve forgotten that you like their music. It’s entirely possible that he’d have forgotten that. Now come on and put on clothes that’re good to go out in. Otherwise we’ll be late.” She sighed, but went to her room and got dressed. No point arguing with Ray, he was more stubborn than she, at least about most things.

An hour later, they made it into the Wosborough Dale Workingmen’s Club. There was a band playing, though it definitely wasn’t Def Leppard. Ray’d had some minor trouble getting in ‘free of charge,’ at least until Khris had realized and asked the man running the door if there was a name on the comp list to the effect of Khris or Khrissie, spelt really oddly. That had done it, and in they’d gone. Ray eyed the room at large, as Khris eyed the bar. She knew that she’d likely be unable to buy herself a drink, even though she’d dressed specifically to look older. But maybe she’d convince someone else to buy her one...

Ray caught sight of the boys, sitting at a booth together having drinks and chatting boisterously about something or other. He caught Khris’ wrist and headed in that direction. Khris put on her best sulk as they approached the table. Joe caught sight of Ray’s familiar face, and grinned wide as he called over to him. Once Khris noticed Joe, her sulk fell away, replaced by confusion.

Arriving at the table, Ray nudged Rick’s shoulder. “Move over, lads!” he pronounced. They did, grinning and greeting Ray warmly. Khris slid into the booth, thankful for the fact that her brother was a buffer between her and Rick, and settled in as a waitress came across to see if they wanted anything to eat or drink. She was puzzled over why Joe and Rick were both here, and how in the world they could possibly know each other. Ray ordered her chips and a cider, and himself an old-fashioned. This caught her attention, and she eyed Ray in surprise as the waitress asked if they’d be needing anything else. Ray shook his head and smiled at her.

As the waitress disappeared to put their order in, Joe nudged himself into conversation. “Ray, mate! What’re you doin’ out this fine Monday ev’nin?”

“Oh, I heard a rumor you gents were playing a set tonight, ‘round about 9 if I’m not mistaken.”

“Right, we are indeed. Finally come to see what the fuss is about?”

Def Leppard were the ones playing at 9, she’d thought. Ray finally noticed his sister’s confused stare, and grinned. Before he could explain, however, the waitress returned with their drinks and her chips. Once she disappeared again, Ray reached across for a chip and laughed. “You remember Joe, Khris?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes at this. Joe had only been over dinner once or three times a week since she’d moved here. “Hi Joe, how’s it going?” It dawned on her that Joe could be in Def Leppard too, though the thought hadn’t occurred to her before. After all, their sound was more raw than she’d have expected of Joe. Still, she had to admit curiosity about another occupant of the table, sitting directly across from her. Rick and Joe could make sense, and she’d really never met the other two, but sitting right across from her, and pointedly avoiding making eye contact with her, was Rick Savage, of Tapton football fame, and more recently, Sheffield United. She couldn’t honestly imagine a jock like him being any kind of musician, but then again, she wouldn’t have expected it from factory-worker Joe either, and here he was, presumably a musician of some kind. She caught the end of what he was saying then.

“- overall, though, the work’s been slow at best. How’re things at school?”

“Oh you know. About the same,” she shrugged, still eyeing the other 3 occupants of the table. This caught Joe’s attention.

“Khris, this is Steve Clark,” he indicated the skinny guy with red-tinted blonde hair, before gesturing to the small brunette. “And this is Pete Willis. They play lead and rhythm guitar. And Rick Savage, our bassist, who you may know from Sheffield United.” This statement made the brunette sitting across from her bristle a little, to her surprise. She smiled and said hello to the other two, as Joe continued talking. “Surprised you brought her out on a school night, mate,” he tossed at Ray, who shrugged.

“Well, I wouldn’t usually, but given it’s a special occasion, I thought I’d make an exception.”

“What’s the occasion?” Steve cut in, curiously.

“It’s my birthday,” Khris answered. This caught the rest of the table off guard.

“Is it really?” Steve returned, murmuring now.

As she spoke in the affirmative, some waiter came over and informed the members of Def Leppard that they had roughly 10 minutes til they had to be onstage, which led to a scramble by the five to head back and get changed or otherwise ready. Joe asked if they were staying after, to which Ray responded that of course they were, at least for a little bit.

Once they’d disappeared, she eyed Ray, looking rather annoyed. “Did you know that Joe was in Def Leppard?” she demanded.

“I mean, more or less. I had an idea that he might be, but it isn’t like I’ve seen them play, Khris. I just heard you playing their album and thought it might be Joe singing.” Still, she pouted. At least, until they began playing their set. It wasn’t incredibly long, but it did include the songs off their EP, as well as a couple of their newer songs they were in the process of fine-tuning, such as Satellite, and Wasted. And despite herself, she enjoyed it. She could admit to herself that she liked their music and was mostly over Rick’s not telling her. But she also had her pride, which left her with a lot of trouble admitting to her brother or, God forbid, Rick that she’d enjoyed herself.

And so, as the boys cleaned up and headed back to their table, Khris put on an air of disinterest, so as not to betray herself. Once they were seated, Joe grinned brightly. “What did you think?” He was addressing both Ray and Khris, so Ray led off.

“I thought it was really good, mate. Top notch! I’ll have to come out and see you guys more often.”

Joe grinned, and glanced at Khris. “And looks like you had some...thoughts about our set?”

She nodded, feeling eyes on her as the boys settled back in with their drinks. “It was pretty good,” she wasn’t lying, but she felt the need to be careful about her words. Not only was she still not technically on speaking terms with Rick, but she barely knew the rest of the men at the table. “I actually thought that last song was quite good.” Joe lit up at the praise, however slight it may have been.

The skinny blonde boy, now stuck between Joe and Rick, spoke up then. Steve, she recalled. “So, your brother said it’s your birthday?”

Khris could have cursed Ray, then. She hated the feeling of their attention, the curiosity. “Yes, that’s right,” she murmured.

Pete grinned at her then, “Today’s your birthday?”

She didn’t like the grin, even less than the feeling of the attention. “Yes, today. I’m fifteen.” Then, Steve’s expression caught her eye. He didn’t look interested, at least not in the way she’d become accustomed to men looking at her. He did look a bit curious, and a bit surprised.

“You’re fifteen?” he sounded surprised, too, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Yes. I was born fifteen years ago, today. Why?”

“Oh it’s nothing, it’s just...it’s my birthday, too,” he answered. “I’m nineteen today. But I’d have sworn you looked older.”

Now she knew why he looked surprised. She was surprised, too. There weren’t many people she’d met whose birthdays fell in April, and she really hadn’t ever known anyone who shared her exact birthday. The last comment didn’t even feel the way it normally came across, just more of a general observation. “Nineteen?”

“Yeah, matter of fact. So fifteen would mean you’re still in school, right?”

“Well, at least another year, yeah.”

“Any plans after that? College?”

Ray cut in between their conversation before Khris could answer. “I’m working on convincing Khris here to continue education. She’s still not convinced it would be the best path.” She narrowed her eyes at her brother, a bit confused at his interruption. Steve missed this, interested in Khris’ school plans and whatnot.

“So if you don’t plan on going into college, what is it you’re going to do? You must be interested in something less academic, right? Maybe art?”

She quickly cut across Ray’s clear intention of interrupting again. “Yeah, actually. It’s - I do photography. Mostly scenery and such, but there’s a couple portraiture studios in the city I’ve looked into applying to over the summer, to broaden my skills while I’m still in school.”

“Photography? That’s so cool!”

Before he could add anything else, Rick jumped into their conversation. “Yeah, Khris does great landscapes, mate. She’s got a couple of the local factories and such that’s just great.”

“Thanks, Rick. Yeah, it’s not much, but I’m sure I could make a real living doing it. Ideally, I’d like to do event photography eventually, but I need a little more experience with shooting people first.”

“Event photography?” this question came from the quietest member of the table, Rick Savage. She glanced at him, surprised.

“Yeah, events. Like weddings, graduations, concerts, and festivals. One-time stuff. Kinda big things,” she replied, smiling slightly. She turned back to Steve, and they descended into discussion about photography that the rest of the table could hardly follow. His bandmates hadn’t even known that Steve knew anything about photography. Nor had Rick and Ray realized how much Khris knew about music and guitar in particular, until they noticed the conversation had inexplicably turned to Steve’s milieu. A moment later, they extracted themselves from the table so Steve could grab himself another drink, still in a discussion about the particular guitar he currently used.

“Did...did you know she knew that much about Gibson guitars?” Rick asked Ray in shock. The rest of the band were similarly shocked, as they’d never seen Steve so talkative with anyone, even Pete.

Ray shook his head. “I didn’t know that she knew anything more than a bit about music, she hasn’t ever studied it or anything like that. I mean she listens to music constantly, but that’s nothing new or extraordinary.”

“Weird. And they got on so well. Like. Steve doesn’t really talk much with anyone, not even us, like that,” Rick said this last part to Joe, shock lacing his tone. Joe just nodded, still surprised. None of them would have expected for Khris and Steve to hit it off this well. When they returned, they were still chatting, though now about bands they both enjoyed, chiefly Journey.

“ - I mean, I think their next album’s likely to hold a lot of the same sound, so long as they don’t have anymore lineup changes,” she was saying.

“Yeah but on the other hand, how do you think they’ll manage to grow their sound in a new direction?They might have peaked, what with the drummer change and everything.”

“Yeah, but if they can build on that momentum, they should be able to masterfully hold onto their sound, without just writing another  _ Evolution. _ ”

“I suppose I see your point, but I dunno. Don’t get me wrong, I loved  _ Evolution _ , you know, was worth every penny, but I don’t know how they can possibly top the sound. Especially after all the skepticism when they replaced Dunbar with Smith.”

“Speaking of albums...”

They spent the rest of the night discussing music, to the surprise of everyone else at the table, who all chatted about work and Def Leppard’s latest gigs. Finally Ray announced they needed to leave, lest Khris miss school in the morning. She scowled slightly, but didn’t pick a fight about going, just wishing everyone a good night.

On the way home, Ray decided to interrogate her a bit about her new friendship. “So what do you think of Steve?”

“Huh? Oh he’s great. Really clever, honestly. Got a great mind for artistry.”

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been that. “Khris, I don’t want to come across as a spoil sport, or an annoying older brother, but I think it’s important to remember that you’re 15 and he’s 19. That’s a bit of a wide gap to be -”

“What? Ray, what are you talking about? He’s funny, and I guess he could be kind of cute, but he’s really not my type. And much too old for me anyway. I just think he’d make a good friend, you know, because we have so many similar interests.”

“You and Rick do, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d be making up with him about the fight you two had. That’s why I wanted to have you come tonight, you know.”

“Look, Ray, I’m not bothered by that anymore. I’ll talk to him tomorrow after school, but it’s really not a big deal. Long as he doesn’t get mad that Steve invited me to band practice later in the week -”

“He did what?!”

“Ray, don’t use that tone. He’s really not that kind of a guy. It’s just because I told him I liked their music. He said if I wanted to, I’m welcome to come to their rehearsal Friday. Apparently they’re going into the studio this weekend to record something for a record, and they’re doing a rehearsal Friday to polish everything. He also told me the next couple places they’re scheduled to play.”

“It sounds an awful lot like you two got very familiar, Khris. I’m sorry, but I’m really not comfortable with -”

“It’s fine, Ray. Please don’t worry, it’s not going to be anything, we’re just friends. That’s all.”

He was skeptical, but he let it go. She chattered happily until they got home about what a good time she’d had, and when they did get home, headed straight to her room, only pausing to thank him for having such an amazing time on her birthday.


	6. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whirlwind of emotions and a moment of weakness.

_“I don’t wanna play the waiting game, and drift away, leavin’ an illusion. I don’t wanna hide, it’s foolish pride - to close my eyes, a touch away from wanting you.”_

**December 31, 1992**

“What do you mean, he’s getting married?” Khris demanded.

Rick shushed her anxiously, glancing about the bar. No one had noticed her slight outburst, thankfully. He returned his attention to the huffy redhead sitting across from him. “I mean, he and Dara got engaged. On Christmas. Don’t be upset love, you had to see this coming.” Her expression suggested that no, she hadn’t seen it coming, and he was completely insane for thinking so.

“That’s crap. He barely freaking knows her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure after the better part of 2 years talking to each other, they know nothing about each other. Why, they’re practically strangers!” The sarcasm was evident in his tone, as was the question of why this mattered so much to her.

She sighed, downed the remainder of the cola and rum in her glass, and signaled the waitress for another. “It just seems very rushed. I mean didn’t they only start dating properly about 7 months ago?”

He nodded, eyeing her curiously. He had a suspicion about where this was coming from, but he didn’t want to press the issue too much, lest she get indignant and decide to stop talking to him. They moved to other topics, but it lingered in the back of his mind, her indignation both hilarious and a little suspicious. He’d thought she’d moved beyond caring about Sav’s love life a while ago, and it was a bit surprising to discover that she still cared deeply, for one reason or another, about what he was doing. Who he was dating.

She straightened suddenly, her eyes darting to the door, and he turned to find Joe had just come in. Joe caught his eye a second later, and headed their way, stopping a waitress to order something. He joined them, huffing slightly as he sat, and glanced at Khris. “Heard the news yet?”

“If by news, you mean Rick’s -” She said and he cut her off with a wave.

“Yeah, that would be the news. And I take it, you’re as thrilled as can be.”

She eyed him. The tone he was using made her curious. It came off as...practiced, like he’d been thinking about this conversation a lot. About the situation a lot.

“Well, I’m happy for him,” she began. And when his expression changed slightly, and Rick opened his mouth to say something, she hurriedly continued. “I mean, he’s my friend, and as long as he’s happy, I can’t very well say much about something entirely understandable. Marriage makes a lot of sense for him, for both of them, really. After all, he’s 32. Isn’t that the age when guys usually start thinking of marriage as a necessity instead of an option?”

Joe considered her. His face had returned to a curious expression, and his thoughts were pretty tangled at the moment. “Actually, we sometimes think of it earlier, Khris. Particularly if we should wind up in a relationship with a woman who’s of that kind of mind.”

That made her roll her eyes.

“Right, I forgot. You and Karla. And you waited until, what...thirty, if I remember correctly. God, you’re right. Men everywhere date with an eye for marriage from a young age. It’s odd that women have trouble finding men willing to commit, when they’re just...everywhere.” The sarcasm dripping from her voice made Joe roll his eyes too. The waitress he’d ordered from reappeared, carrying Joe’s drink. Double scotch, neat. She asked if they needed anything else, and Khris took the opportunity to order a double old fashioned.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered under his breath as the waitress smiled and assured her it’d be right out. She caught the words anyway, and glared at him, challenging him to say it again. The waitress disappeared, and he asked curiously, “So, what. When Rick asked a few years back about -”

“There was a perfectly reasonable conversation, wherein we collectively decided that marriage and anything in that ballpark wasn’t right for us. Not then, not ever. But Rick evidently feels that Dara offers the potential skills required of a wife and mother.”

“That’s bullshit, Khris. He asked if _you_ saw marrying him as an eventuality, and -”

“And I was honest. Joe, he’s got a four-year age advantage, as well as a much larger career. I don’t exactly want to stop doing what I’m doing, and women who get married, even nowadays, tend to only work until they pop out a baby. I’d rather keep doing what I’m doing.”

That boggled his mind. “So, let me get this straight. You’re currently annoyed about Rick getting engaged to be married, after having rebuffed the same question, oh I dunno. Four fucking years ago?”

“I’m not annoyed. As I said, I’m happy for him, it just makes me wonder since they don’t know each other as well as you’d expect.”

“Khris, I asked Karla to marry me after dating less than a year, and we got married within a few months of that decision. And I heard not one word of dissent from you about the whole bloody affair. Sav has known this woman for around 2 years, which I’d say gives him a bit of an advantage in knowing who she is before they get married. And aside from that, when have you _ever_ known him to jump right into anything?” The waitress returned with Khris’ drink, and she considered Joe’s point.

Eventually, she shrugged. “Okay, I can’t say happy’s the right word for it, but I’ll get there. It’s just a little...surprising to me is all. I mean, it just feels very out of character for him. Because he tends to take his time. I didn’t hear the first thing about marriage until we’d already been seeing each other for nearly 4 years, and even then, it was a ‘maybe eventually would you be interested?’”

“Well, sometimes, you just know.” Rick pointed out. Joe murmured an agreement, and she sighed.

“Look, I get that, even if I’ve never felt that. But I really didn’t expect that conversation to be the end of it. I expected there to be a little more discussion than just the one. Instead I got the one question, and next thing I knew, I’m single and across the world, Rick’s looking again. Not exactly the standard breakup, no closure or anything.”

“Fair enough,” Rick said.

“Hey, Rick. How’re you doing recently anyway?” she asked, changing the subject yet again. This caught him a bit off guard, so he drank his whiskey and cola slowly, finishing it and signalling the waitress for another before finally answering.

“I’m doing pretty well, I’d say. Stacy’s been doing good, too, although she’s started talking about having kids, which I’m honestly not sure I’m ready for.”

“Ah, I know what you mean. Definitely a scary conversation to be having. And how’re...well how’s your health?”

This surprised him. “How’s my...Khris, how’s _your_ health? Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy with the drinking?” She’d just ordered another drink, too, making it a very apt question.

“I’m doing ok. Really,” she insisted, as he gave her another skeptical look. “And you’re probably right, but I’m going through a bit of mourning at the moment. Besides, I haven’t had a flareup in at least 6 months, and according to my doctor, it’s mostly heat that makes things worse.”

“Yes, but with your medication regimen -”

“Yeah, I know. Look, don’t worry about me, I’ll be perfectly fine. The only medications I have that are reactive are all as-needed, not part of my daily routine. I’m being responsible, or trying to be. I’m just asking because I thought you might -”

“Khris, I really don’t need to talk about this. I know you want me to be able to relate to what you’re going through, but I really can’t. I don’t have any pain, and there’s nothing about my situation I’d consider even minorly disabling.” He must have said something wrong, because the look on her face changed, and Joe dropped his eyes to his glass. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s...it’s not that I was looking to ‘relate’ or whatever the fuck, Rick. What do you take me for? I just. I wanted to make sure you’re doing ok, because in the past, the anniversary has been one of the harder parts of the year, what with all the memories and the -”

“Don’t say trauma, Khris. I’m okay. Really. I’ve moved on, and I’ve had eight years to get my shit together.” She eyed him, that odd look still on her face. Clearly she wasn’t quite ready to drop it, yet. 

“I happen to have a fair amount of firsthand experience with trauma, Rick, in case you don’t remember. And last I checked, mine’s...fifteen years old, I think? And I still have bad days, particularly around the anniversary of the thing. It’s a natural thing. I’ve even gotten professional help, but it still affects me. And blindly ignoring and denying it isn’t really going to help you in the long run. I’m your friend, sweetie, and I want to help you. Can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

“There’s nothing to be helped, Khris. Jesus, how many times do I have to say it?” he huffed angrily. When she opened her mouth again, he drained his drink and got up to pay his tab. She watched him go, curiously. The look on her face caught Joe’s interest, and he watched Rick leave, too, before turning to her.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Do what?”

“Press the issue when you knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it?”

“Joe, I want to help him. He, well...all of you, but him especially, really should talk to someone. And he’s bucked the idea of professional help so many times over the years, even when it’s clear he’s struggling. I’m just. I’m trying to offer him help. Yeah, I pressed the issue. And I’m probably going to keep doing it until it works.”

He rolled his eyes at that, lifting his drink to his lips. “Khris, is it possible you’re seeing something that’s not there?”

“Like with Steve, you mean?” her voice caught slightly on his name, and Joe met her gaze, only to see tears form before she quickly swiped them away. Suddenly it made a bit more sense.

“Oh... Khris, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself for every mess we make. We all cocked up the last couple years, no doubt about it, but it’s not been your fault exclusively, not even mostly.” She dropped her eyes, and lifted her drink to finish before signalling the waitress. He looked up, doing the same, and then added thoughtfully, “I’d argue you’ve helped more these past couple years than almost anyone else. Not just with everything that happened with Steve, but with the album recently, too. Christ, if it weren’t for you, we might never have returned to the studio to finish what we’d started.”

“Don’t patronize me, Joe. You all would have eventually found your way into the studio again. You always do, and I’ve no doubt you all would have needed to do it, regardless of my presence. Aside from which, if I helped so much with Steve, where is he? Where will I, if not all of us, be in a little over a week?” Something caught in her throat on the last word, and the waitress appeared with a new drink, right on time.

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks for a few minutes. Joe slid closer to her, then, and caught her free hand. He murmured, so only she could hear, “I know we’ve been over this, but you can’t save everyone, darling.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to save everyone. I know it’s terrible of me to say, but I really didn’t. I just wanted to save him.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that. In the past when they’d had this conversation, so many times since January last year, she’d never once said that, admitted that. He couldn’t be sure she was being honest, anyway, as her eyes glistened slightly with how drunk she was. He decided to change approach. “Darling, how many drinks have you had?”

She finished the one she had, and the waitress appeared with another for both of them, just in time. She sipped the new drink, then finally met his gaze. “I don’t know, I’m not counting. I’ve been here awhile though. Rick called me and I had just gotten here, and he met me not long after.” This admission made him signal the waitress, and request their bill. Once she disappeared to retrieve it, Khris protested by finishing her drink and trying to catch another waiter’s eye.

“Look, dear, I’m not letting you kill your liver any more than you already do. And God forbid this actually does lead to a flare up...Khris, I don’t want you starting this year in the ER, like you did the last.”

“I wouldn’t have started the last one in the ER if someone hadn’t freaked out over a minor flare up. The one I had in June because of the heat was much worse.”

“Right, I overreacted. I remember that part. Like I remember the weird flushing, the being sick in my upstairs bathroom, and the passing out on the stairs. Where, by the way, you’d have likely gotten a concussion had I not been right there to catch you.” He dropped cash to cover their combined tabs, with a generous tip for the waitress’ trouble, and helped Khris out of the booth. She didn’t seem awfully happy, but she acquiesced, following him out to the street where the sun had gone down and a drizzle was turning the snow to a thick sludge.

He hailed a cab for the both of them, and instead of asking where she was staying, he simply told the cab driver his address. The cabbie would likely have protested at the distance he’d have to drive if Joe hadn’t handed him a tenner and begged him to be as quick as was safe. The cab wandered the Dublin streets at a decent clip, given the sludgy streets, as they headed across the city. “Why’re we going to yours?” she murmured into Joe’s ear.

“Well for one, I don’t know where you’re staying and I’m not sure you do either at the moment. For another, I don’t know that you ought to be left alone just now. And I certainly could use the company.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Karla’s out of town, visiting her family. It’s a big house to be all alone in. Besides, it’s almost the new year, and I was thinking maybe this year we could actually spend it in my house instead of the hospital.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and they made it to Joe’s house without incident. He guided her out of the car into the drizzle after paying and tipping the driver, and walked with her up the stairs to the door. In they went, shaking off the rain, and he turned to flick the switch, bathing the foyer and stairwell in light. They kicked off their shoes and coats, and he led her into the kitchen. Without even asking, he walked across to the liquor cabinet and pulled out an old favorite. The label caught her attention, and she raised an eyebrow. “Grant's? Really, babe?”

He crossed to the refrigerator without answering, and pulled out a small pack of tonic waters. He expertly mixed them each a drink, eyeing her carefully as he circled the island to sit next to her. She regarded him suspiciously as she sipped the drink. “So you took me out of a bar, lectured me about drinking, and subsequently brought me home to give me more alcohol?”

“Yeah, kind of. I think it’s significantly cheaper for you to lose your mind here versus in a bar, darling. Aside from which, if I’d taken you home, this is almost exactly what you’d be doing, just with dark liquor.”

“That may be true. Now tell me, Joseph,” she sipped her drink again before continuing. “What’s your real reason for bringing me all the way home with you?”

He chuckled at the suggestion in her tone. “Look, darling. You know I adore you, more than anything. But I’m really worried about you right now. We all know what happens with you when the weather gets cold. And especially these last two winters. And I don’t think that Sav’s doing what he did would have helped.”

“You’re worried about me? Joe, look in the mirror sometime. You’re in this big, scary house all by yourself for the third holiday this year.”

“Third holiday?”

“Yeah. Your wife missed your own birthday to spend the day with her family.”

“That hardly counts as a holiday, Khrissie.”

“It’s still a federal offense in most relationships, I’ve found. Especially young ones.” She sipped her drink. “What’s with the Grant's, anyway? You suddenly have a soft spot for the vodka, babe?”

He’d caught the way she lowered her tone, the way she was looking at him. And it still ached a little, that young, 22-year-old inside him who’d wanted her for forever. Well, not literally forever, but he’d loved her for twelve years, in one way or another, and this only served to reinforce that fact. But he also felt that ring heavy on his finger, and the weight of the last twelve years of their lives between them. They’d never be the kids they’d been when he’d first fallen for her, and he had enough wisdom to know that it simply couldn’t be what he imagined between them.

And that wasn’t even considering the reality of why she was drinking so heavily tonight. She could joke all she wanted and deny that it hurt, but he knew her the best of any of them at this point, and he knew how she’d loved Sav. He knew more than he should have, if he was being honest, but the reality was that she couldn’t just erase her history, any more than he could. And no matter how it ached, he knew he’d have to continue living with it, the same as he had for the last twelve years.

“Soft spot, no. A friend gifted me 3 bottles for Christmas, and I know how you feel about vodka.”

“Well, clearly you don’t, seeing as how you offered me vodka instead of whiskey,” she teased, and he caught just the hint of a slur under her words. Khris hardly slurred, excepting when she became supremely drunk. Which made him feel particularly bad. Of course, she’d been medicating successfully a lot longer than she had last year around this time, and she hadn’t had a flare up in nearly 6 months, but he still felt a bit bad about continuing to allow her to drink, knowing she’d probably be feeling like hell and a half tomorrow.

He sighed. “You play tough all you want, darling, but I know the truth. You’re a sucker for a vodka tonic, especially when you have Grant's as an option.” She met his gaze, smiling slightly. And then her expression changed, to something more pensive.

“You’re right, Joe...I do quite appreciate vodka. Can’t drink it like water anymore though.” She got up, wandering out the kitchen and down the hall to the living room. She smiled at the sight of the same rug. “You remember when I nearly hurled on that rug?” she asked as he joined her.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I remember a fair number of things happening to the furniture in here due to your being drunk. Most vividly, your jumping up and down on all the sofa cushions.” She chuckled lightly, crossing to sit on the sofa. Joe sat in the overstuffed armchair that partially faced the sofa, and she kicked her feet up, still nursing her vodka tonic.

“Joe?” she said it very softly, and he looked up to meet her gaze. Her expression was soft and curious. “Do you ever wonder what might have been different...if -” she stopped herself, raising her drink to her lips. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

“I doubt it’s stupid,” he said gently, moving himself smoothly onto the couch and catching her free hand in his. “Why don’t you and I talk about it, seeing as how we’ve never had the chance?”

They both knew, somehow, what she’d been about to ask, and yet he still needed to hear her say it. “I’ve just been wondering a lot recently if I did the right things, these past ten years.” She admits, looking at her lap. “I just keep wondering what would’ve been different. If you and I had ever...well, you know. If I’d taken you up on your offer, back then.”

He shifted slightly, to set his drink on the coffee table. “I wonder, too, darling. I wonder all the time. There’s a lot of what-ifs to our lives. I always think that it might have been better, but then I have to remind myself there likely still would have been a lot of struggle...”

“Yes, I suppose so. But I just...sometimes I think maybe I got it all wrong. From the very beginning.”

He knew what she was asking, underneath the talk of regret, and he knew what it would be best to say. Although he so desperately wanted to tell her she had made a mistake, that he’d loved her everyday for twelve years and would probably do for the rest of his life, to tell her that he had picked Karla _because_ she was so different from Khris and he couldn’t dream of dating anyone remotely like her, knowing how wonderful she was...He couldn’t. “I don’t think you did get it wrong, darling. You and Sav had an amazing relationship. You two were very much right for each other. But the timing was off - it happens. You made good choices, some that were well beyond the capacity of most women your age to make. And you did so with grace that I don’t think anyone else could have achieved.”

“But I brought two kids into this world without a real dad and mom, and I refused marriage out of a selfish need to keep working. I have screwed up in all the ways one can possibly screw up, and I don’t see how you can get anything good out of that.”

“You were a loyal friend to Steve, you stayed true to yourself in the face of something you knew you weren’t ready for. You did the right thing with the kids, and while they might not have a traditional family, I’d say Ray and Craig make excellent fathers. Aside from which, you know that Sav wouldn’t have handled that situation with half the grace you showed in that moment.” He could remember a similar conversation they’d had last year. Except last year, it had just been the admission of having had 2 kids. She’d been exceedingly drunk, and had admitted it to him right before collapsing on the stairs. But it had been useful information in the ER, even if he’d later struggled between keeping it a secret for Khris, or telling Sav the truth because if it were him, he’d want to know.

She didn’t look convinced by his words though. He caught her face gently in his hands, not caring that it was the kind of gesture he probably should’ve avoided. “Listen to me. You haven’t done the wrong thing in any of these situations. You’ve gone through some difficult shit, as we all have, but you’ve got to stop wondering if you’ve made the right call. You did, every time.”

She met his gaze, then. And after only a moment, she smiled slightly, sadly.  “Thank you, Joe.” She paused a second, then leaned slightly closer. “I think it’s best if we go to bed, dear. But really, thank you. I can’t begin to say how much it means.” And with that, she leaned in to give Joe a quick kiss, and got up to head to bed.

After she was gone, he sat there, pressing his fingers curiously against his lips, turning over the gesture and the conversation in his mind, and remembering a similar gesture a year ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate everyone enjoying this, and I'm really glad about the reception it's gotten so far. Sorry for the length of this chapter, but it's. Well, necessary. I really wanted to expound a little more on her and Joe's relationship, and that requires the framework of her relationship with Sav. Hopefully y'all continue to enjoy it, I've got the next chapter mostly written already and I'm starting to edit it, so hopefully chapter 7 will be out within a week or two.


	7. Think About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumping back to 80s to see how Khris came to work for Ross.

_ “Take on the situation but not the torment; Now you know it’s not as bad as it seems...Well I know you’d like to come away but baby you can’t come. Your fortune is your life’s love. And anytime you think about leaving, think about what you know - well, think about it, think about it before you go.” _

**December 15, 1981**

“Khris! It’s for you!” Ray yelled down the hall. She got up and headed to the living room, trudging along and thinking about the small payday she’d made over the last 3 days, and the job offers she’d been declining.

“Who is it?” she wanted to know as Ray offered her the receiver.

“He said to tell you it’s Ross?”

“Oh.” She took the receiver and turned away, lifting it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Khris. It’s Ross Halfin.”

“So my brother told me. Ross, what do you want?”

“How very courteous of you.”

“Well I’m tired of the cold calls. I’ve said no several times, and the continuous calling is getting well and truly old.”

“I wanted to make one last offer. Hear me out,” he added before she could speak. “I can offer you a salary of $14,500 next year, before taxes. And that’s in American currency. I can pay to relocate you to the home base for my company, in Chicago. In addition, the company can pay the cost of your travel, and where we can’t, we negotiate for the companies offering us contracts to do so. That includes room costs, transport to venues and back to hotels, as well as 3 meals a day. And you make commission on all photos you can sell to the companies. I’m willing to negotiate, but at the moment the contract I’ve drawn up offers you 85% of the commissions, with the other 15% going into the company’s operating costs and rainy day fund. Your materials cost is covered under our operating expenses, including photo development. And naturally, I require all companies I negotiate with to publish all of my work credited to me, so the same would be expected of any work you sell.”

As she listened to him go on about the different benefits and income she’d earn if she just signed the contract, she mused over the last year. She’d met Ross quite by accident, originally. And he’d spent the majority of the time they’d talked joking about how he’d never met a photographer as pretty as her and was she sure she worked there and wasn’t a groupie or higher up press officer. The kind of things she’d gotten used to hearing, really. But by the next time he’d crossed her path, in the States on the Def Leppard supporting Ozzy Osbourne tour, he’d apparently seen some of her work published, just press photos and whatnot to advertise the opening act of Ozzman’s tour. He’d offered her a job every day they’d been in proximity over those two weeks, telling her she had an amazing amount of raw talent that he’d love to help develop. And she’d been largely uninterested, but she’d rebuffed him gently, saying she was too young and really, her brother wanted her to continue working close to home, and perhaps return to school in the fall.

A bad excuse then, she rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. But she had to admit, having worked for Def Leppard’s management company for most of the last year as an on-call photographer hadn’t netted her any real money. Hell, she was making more as a waitress at the local workingmen’s clubs when she was in town than she’d made in photography, and Ross was offering more than she’d ever made before to commit to a career in photography. He’d started calling on the first, and offering real numbers and a laundry list of benefits. This time though, he added something that really caught her attention, and it wasn’t the additional $1,000 he’d tacked onto the salary.

“...And we’d give you private shares in the actual company, that would vest partially after you’d completed the first year of your contract. By the time you’re 21, you could be an equal partner with me in the company. Look, Khris, I know it’s a lot to think about, that’s why I want to send you the actual contract. I know that this is a lot better than the deal the management company’s about to offer you. That they aren’t even willing to pay commission or give credit pretty much speaks to that, nevermind the abysmally low amount of money you’re making for the level of skill you have. I just really think you have a talent like I’ve never seen before, and I’d like it if you’d at least consider the offer, read the contract, and then tell me what you think.”

She mused on what he’d already outlined. She knew he was right, and although her pride was insistent that she shouldn’t work for someone who’d initially mistaken her for a groupie, she knew logically that he was offering her something supremely rare with this contract. Not just the partial ownership, either. No, he was offering her a  _ living _ doing this, a career as a photographer.

She sighed. “Fine, Ross. You can fax it to me, and I’ll look it over. The number is...”

Ray reappeared as she was saying goodbye to Ross. “So what was that about?”

“Same thing it’s been about for the last month at least. Hey, is the fax machine hooked up?”

“Of course. Expecting something?”

“Well, yeah. Ross is offering me a contract, which I naturally want to look over before I sign. And maybe ask Craig to look over as well?” she added, remembering Ray’s new boyfriend worked as a lawyer.

“Well I make no promises, but you can certainly ask him, he’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

She smiled brightly. She had to admit, despite the new territory that came with Ray having a boyfriend he was comfortable telling her about, that things weren’t so different. Although she was sure if she moved back to Chicago, even for work, Ray might have a conniption. After all, he’d already vetoed her working full time as a photographer for the management company she had a relationship with. And while she knew that they weren’t willing to pay what she was worth (at least, that’s what Ross kept saying), she felt confident in saying that Ray’s unwillingness to let her work for them made it as unlikely he’d let her sign with Ross. He seemed generally unwilling, from what she’d seen, to let her move away from home before she turned 18 next year. And she could somewhat understand why, but could also admit that making $14,500 over the course of next year, as a baseline income, sounded amazing. At that rate, she could help Ray afford the new kitchen appliances he wanted, and maybe even repaint the kitchen as well.

She retrieved the contract that emerged from the fax machine a half hour later, and by the time dinner was done and Craig had come in, she’d already read through roughly half of it. Some of it went over her head, mostly the stuff in the really legal-sounding language, but the more basic things like benefits and salary she’d understood perfectly. And as she’d looked over the baseline benefits Ross was offering, she became more and more convinced this was a worthwhile job. Plus the amount she’d get to travel, and the number of rockstars she was sure she’d meet - it sounded almost too good to be true. Like her dream job was coming true.

Still, she asked Craig if he would, pretty please, be willing to look over this contract and make sure everything was good with it, especially the parts she couldn’t understand. He agreed, and Ray tsked as he started reading the first page over his dinner. “Sorry, should I wait?” he asked, realizing Ray was eyeing him.

“Not at all, take your time with it. Just don’t forget to eat, dear,” Ray replied, smiling gently. Khris watched their exchange out of the corner of her eye, and continued to listen to their absentminded conversation with half her attention. They just adored each other, and she was sure that was partially because of how new their relationship was, but she still found their loving words and gazes to be just so sweet.

The phone rang again later, as she was helping Ray tidy up what was left of dinner and Craig got up from where he’d been reading the contract to get the phone before Ray or she could cross to it. He still read the page he’d had in his hand as he greeted whoever was on the line with, “Murray residence, Craig speaking. May I ask who’s calling?” He listened, turning over the page and then lifting his eyes to Khris’. “It’s for you, Khris,” he lowered the phone as he said this, offering her the receiver. She crossed to it, and  took it from Craig, who returned to his study of the contract.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love,” came the voice on the other end, and her eyes widened as she practically shrieked.

“Steve!?!”

“Yes, it’s me. How’re things back home?”

“Same as always, love. Why’re you calling, I just saw you yesterday, remember?”

“Yes, but airports make conversations so hard to have, especially when there’s 4 other people saying goodbye as well. Plus, I wanted to see that you made it home safe and sound.”

“I did. Thanks for checking in, dear. How’re things going for you gents?”

“Oh good, good. We’re maybe stopping home for the holidays, just Christmas Eve through Boxing Day, most likely. We figured we could use the break, given the busy year. Plus we haven’t really seen much of Sheffield this year, what with all the touring. May as well stop home, see the parents, drop by the local haunts and see what’s what with everyone.”

She smiled. “That’ll be good. You know how annoying it is saying goodbye to everyone for me, especially when I don’t know the next time I’ll be seeing you all.”

“Yeah, naturally. Are you still waitressing?”

“For the moment. I’m applying to a couple of other things, but don’t wanna jinx anything just now. Why?”

“Well don’t the workingmen’s clubs usually make you work Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, if not both?”

“Usually,” she murmured, twisting the cord in her hand, and then shrugging. “But I actually have seniority on staff at both clubs, so I’ll likely be off those three days if I chat with my managers. Should be easy to do. By the by, are your parents having a Christmas Eve or Christmas Day celebration?”

“They’re chatting about Christmas Eve last I heard, but even if they do something for Christmas day, I’m still coming around for Ray’s big Christmas dinner, same as last year.” That made her smile, and she and Steve chatted another few minutes about nothing of consequence, before ringing off with murmurs of endearment.

“So how’s the contract looking?” she asked, dancing over to Craig.

“Overall, it’s pretty cut-and-dry. Standard nondisclosure stuff, the usual salary and benefits offer. The only weird thing is the exclusivity clause, but I suppose it goes hand-in-hand with the owning-rights-to-your-own-photos thing that comes right after. I would advise giving it more thought than a day, obviously, but there’s no red flags or anything like that. Even the length is agreeable, you have a negotiation available at half the term of the contract, and the contract ends when you’re 21 and a fully vested partner, after which you’ll have to re-sign. It even has incremental steps for salary increases laid out, which is actually not something I see often. I’d say this Ross has plans to keep you as an employee for awhile, likely because of the skills you’re already showing.” He smiled, handing her back the contract. “If it were being presented to me by a law firm, I’d take it in a heartbeat. Every six months your salary increases by 250 USD, which can be disbursed as a bonus, or you can have that split between the 26 remaining paydays before the next increase. By the time you’re 21, you’ll be making roughly 16,000 annually in American currency, before taxes. And that’s not including the income from your vested share of the company.”

“Well I guess I’ll have to think about it,” she replied finally, realizing finally exactly what Ross was offering. Despite the temptation, she knew she’d be taking her time to respond to Ross. “Thanks, Craig. I really appreciate you looking this over. I’ll keep all that in mind. And of course, Ray and I will have to chat about it over the next few days.”


	8. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mourning is difficult and complicated at the best of times, and only more so when it's for your soul mate.

_ “Thrown down through the arms of sleep; she fell through the ivory morning, deep into the waters of the one she called love. She paled in the wake of what some would call a dream, but you cannot know a dream ‘til you’ve known the nightmare.” _

**January 8, 1991**

She woke the whole building. She didn’t mean to, it just  _ hurt _ so acutely, her chest felt like something was about to collapse. Or maybe it already had. The first one into her room was Joe, followed closely by Sav. They both looked - well, worried would have been an understatement, but it was close enough. Joe especially. She couldn’t breathe, and could barely register anything else as another sob tore through her, a reaction to the pain. She hadn’t had a flareup like this since she’s been in the hospital and the rheumatologist had attempted to induce one. Only this hurt worse, because she hadn’t been expecting anything, and because the emotional component was intense. It felt like something in her chest was actually dying.

She was amazed she’d been able to scream at all a few minutes ago, given how tight her chest felt now. And she really had to try to focus on something, anything other than this intense, illogical pain, so she met Joe’s eyes and forced herself to focus on him.

“Khris, love, what’s wrong?” he was saying, his voice having lept past concern and straight into fear. She couldn’t blame him, none of them had yet seen her in any pain like this before.

She caught his wrist, and he shifted closer. “I feel like I’m dying,” she managed, closing her eyes to block out the tears welling up.

Beyond the pain was a sudden and acute sadness, an ache that was emotional in nature, and she didn’t want to think about why that was. She heard the rest of the men in the house appearing, probably having decided to investigate the dying sounds she was still making despite herself.

“Do you need us to take you to the hospital?” Sav asked, just as a wave of nausea passed through her. She released Joe, folding herself practically in half to keep from puking. Another sob came, and she hated the sensation of helplessness, of being dragged along for the ride by whatever this was. She couldn’t produce anything but mumbling and moaning now, it hurt so much. The nausea was there, too, lingering on the edge of her consciousness. It felt like as soon as the pain passed, the nausea would take over. She swallowed, finding a small reprieve from the pain, and using that to roll to the side and press her forehead to Joe’s pajama-clad thigh. He was seated on the edge of her bed, and Sav was over his shoulder. She could dimly register the murmuring of Mutt, Phil, and Rick by the door, but she couldn’t really focus on what they were saying.

Joe pressed his hand to her head, fingers twining with her curls. He felt tears soaking into the cloth of his PJs, and he felt terrible realizing what kind of pain she was in. But he also wasn’t sure that the hospital was the right call, given how Khris generally felt about being in hospitals.

She sobbed again as another wave of pain came, closed her eyes, and rode it out. Sav and Joe exchanged looks, and Joe shifted slightly, maneuvering her so her head was in his lap instead of pressed into his leg. She still had tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes, and she pulled her knees tighter to her chest. He leaned down and whispered, “Do you have anything you can take for the pain?”

She waited until the tightness subsided, then nodded. “It’s in  my dresser.” She told him the name, and he asked Sav to retrieve the pill bottle. He returned a moment later with that and a bottle of water that had been sitting atop the dresser. Joe read the instructions carefully before tapping two pills out of the orange bottle. She’d tensed again and shut her eyes, and he waited out the next wave. When she relaxed again, he pressed one pill to her lips. She took it, shook her head at the water, and dry swallowed the second. He tried to insist on water, but she curled up again, eyes closed, and waited, tears still coming.

It took forty-five minutes for those pills to work. The remainder of the household headed downstairs to wait, realizing there was blessedly little they could do at 3 in the morning while she was in too much pain to even communicate, but knowing they wouldn’t be able to sleep while concerned for her well-being. Eventually, Joe felt her relax against his side, then curl against him. Not tense, just needing the support. He rested his hand on her head, and waited a moment to be sure the pain was gone. “Khris, what can I do?” he asked quietly.

She felt a wave of nausea coming, and murmured, “I need to get to the bathroom, could you help me? I don’t think I can walk on my own just yet.” Without any further discussion, he scooped her up and headed down one door to the bathroom. He held back her hair as she dry-heaved for a few minutes. Thankfully for her, nothing came back up, and the nausea lessened substantially after a few minutes. Finally she sat back, and she looked considerably more tired than he’d seen in some time.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked gently.

“Kind of. I’m just feeling worn out, really. I haven’t had anything that intense in...ever. It feels pretty terrible. Like something in my chest just sort of disappeared.”

He didn’t really understand, but he helped her to her feet. “You know, some tea might help settle your stomach, at least,” he pointed out. She murmured agreement, and he helped her downstairs. She was still pretty shaky, but at least she was able to walk. They stepped into the light of the kitchen to find everyone having tea and murmuring.

“Khris, you alright?” Rick wanted to know.

“I will be,” she muttered darkly, sitting heavily as Joe crossed to make them both some tea as well. Thankfully there was still hot water in the kettle, making that part at least easy. A few minutes later, he brought her a cup of strong, black tea. She sipped the hot liquid slowly, eyes closed.

“What was that?” Phil asked, concern evident in his tone.

She looked up. “I’m not actually sure. The doctor I talked to last month said that my immune condition tends to be episodic, so it could have just been a flare up. It didn’t feel exactly like one, but it very well could have been. They don’t always occur the same way.”

“Why would you be having a flare up?”

“Well, not taking enough care, not eating well enough, not getting enough sleep, the inverse of any of those things...Honestly, the doctor told me there’s just too many factors to be sure what causes it, other than I should be careful with my drinking and what kind of food I’m eating. If my immune system thinks even one thing’s wrong, it can start attacking other parts, essentially.”

They discussed it for a bit, asking if she was certain she didn’t want to go to the hospital, if she was sure she’s fine, and so on. Finally, she sighed and headed back upstairs with her second cup of tea. “I’ll be fine, guys.”

They followed her lead, heading back to bed for a few more hours themselves. But they woke later that morning still a bit uneasy. Downstairs in the kitchen, around 10, they sat watching Phil cook breakfast (it was his turn, after all) and discussed Khris’ episode the previous night. It was worrisome the way she’d been screaming, out of nowhere, and they were sure they’d never seen Khris so distressed. Well, at least since 1985.

Phil made french toast, bacon, and eggs for everyone, and just as he was finishing cooking, Khris appeared in the doorway. She seemed more rested, but there was a strange expression on her face. “Tea?” Joe offered. She accepted with a quick nod, turning to find a seat at the table. The rest of the men followed her lead, seating themselves at the large dinner table, as Phil set a large plate of eggs at his end of the table. They dished themselves food in relative quiet. Nobody wanted to ask Khris how she was feeling, especially since her expression seemed so haunted, so they exchanged glances and ate quietly for a while. Mutt appeared and broke the silence, then.

Soon after, he ushered the men into the studio, Khris disappearing to find her camera. They all spent the next half hour working, right up until the studio phone rang. Mutt called a hold, and picked up the phone. All eyes were on Mutt, but none of them could have predicted what came next. Mutt’s voice caught on a sob as he was asking whoever it was, “Are you sure?” Khris crossed to him, catching his elbow in support, and he actually turned to her, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders, and they caught sight of tears before he dropped his head onto Khris’ shoulder. He murmured something else into the phone, before putting it back in the cradle and all but collapsing. This alarmed everyone. Not only had they never seen a kind word between Khris and Mutt, they’d never seen anything close to this, to his collapsing in her arms for comfort, her trying to comfort him. Mutt wasn’t exactly the deep, emotional kind, and his rivalry with Khris was practically a blood feud at this point, as far as they’d seen.

They were a flurry of questions as they tried to disentangle Mutt from Khris, to get a clue as to what was going on. They finally got him horizontal on the studio sofa. He stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed with tears. “Mutt, mate, what’s wrong?” Joe finally got through, saw Mutt’s eyes focus on his face.

“It’s...it’s...It’s St-S-St-Steve.” he finally got it out, his voice shaking and his gaze sliding off Joe’s face and back to the ceiling. Joe felt something in him fracture, knowing and yet not knowing what was coming next.

“What’s happened to Steve?” Phil asked, gently, when Joe didn’t continue talking.

Mutt closed his eyes, and they watched his face shift from painful to almost serene. “He’s..he’s gone. His girlfriend found him, and they just got to the flat.”

“The flat? Who?”

“They’re still not sure how, but he wasn’t waking up or responsive when she got home, and her friend said they should call an ambulance, but the ambulance was too late and he’s-” Mutt swallowed instead of finishing his sentence, as the facts hit everyone in the room.

Joe’s mind immediately shifted from Steve to Khris. Because he knew, just knew that she’d be so heartbroken, she might not even be able to process it. He turned to where she’d been standing, and found Sav’s gaze, but no Khris. Sav’s expression mirrored his, and he sighed, gaze sweeping around the room to see where she’d gone in the flurry of helping Mutt. The red curls were conspicuously absent, and he felt something in his chest shift, in fear and concern. He didn’t even bother to make excuses for where he was going, he just turned and left the studio, Sav hot on his heels.

In the kitchen, Sav looked around, then asked, “How should we do this?”

“I was thinking perhaps you take the downstairs and I take the upstairs?” Joe suggested, and Sav agreed quickly. They split up, Sav heading toward the parlour and Joe taking the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs, he looked left, and then right, unsure of which direction was most likely. He decided to try her bedroom first. He wasn’t surprised, exactly, when he opened the door to find it empty. But it did make it harder to guess where she’d have gone. He frowned, closing the door once again, and looking up and down the hall. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was searching for, just that there had to be some evidence of where she was. He headed the opposite direction, towards Sav’s room. Perhaps... he thought as he turned the knob, only to find the room was vacant as well, and just as undisturbed. He swallowed and returned to standing in the hallway and puzzling over Khris’ movements. She couldn’t have gotten far.

Sav was faring similarly, having searched the parlour and powder room adjacent to find nothing. He noticed her shoes were still present as he returned to the entranceway, and her keys and coat were still hanging up, meaning she probably hadn’t left the premises. He turned down the hall, checking the bathroom and the broom closet. Empty again, and both seemed like a place she wouldn’t have been comfortable in. And he knew when something like this hit, she’d seek comfort...Suddenly, he had a thought, and turned away to run up the stairs. He found Joe standing on the landing, looking confused.

“I can’t find her, Rick.”

“I have an idea,” he replied simply, crossing past Joe to head to the farthest door on the right side of the staircase. He tried the door to the room, and was unsurprised to find it locked. He tried it once more, frustration and concern coming out just slightly as Joe crossed to him. “She’s in here,” he murmured then, resting his forehead against the heavy wood of the door and closing his eyes.

“But why would she have...” Joe trailed off, realizing suddenly. He nodded, and slowly sank to the floor, defeat evident in the set of his shoulders. Sav nodded then, grimly, and sank to Joe’s level, leaning his back against the door frame. They were quiet for a moment, and then Joe looked at him and asked, “Do you think - would it help if you tried talking to her? Maybe she’d listen to you?”

Sav closed his eyes for a moment, considering. Without opening them, he shifted so his back was to the door, and sighed. “Khrissie?” he murmured gently, then again toward the door. They heard stirring in the room behind them, but no words. “Khris, we’re here for you. I know there’s not much that can be done, but we’re here all the same.” They heard crying then, very softly. It was not far from the door, either, and he considered what else he could possibly say, to get her to let them in. “Love, I know this is probably one of the most difficult things in the world for you. I  _ know _ . But we’re here, and we’d like to help you.” More stirring, but silence otherwise. They waited, anxiously, but heard nothing to indicate she’d moved closer or unlocked the door. Just hushed sobs. Sav shook his head, and Joe noticed tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes.

They were silent awhile, and as they waited, Phil appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked back and forth at the dim hallway twice before noticing Joe and Sav’s huddled forms. He walked over quietly, and stopped in front of them. “Is she...?” They nodded, and he squared his shoulders before leaning over Sav and knocking gently on the door. “Khris? Love?” His words were met with no response, and he sighed after a moment. He eyed Sav, and leaned closer to the door. “Khris, I know that you probably want to be alone right now, but if there’s anything in the world you need, we can try to help. We’re all here.”

Another moment of silence, and then her quiet voice came through the door, colored with tears. “Is...Joe there?” They exchanged glances. Rick appeared then at the top of the stairs, crossing to them after a moment.

“Yes, love, I’m right here,” he finally replied softly.

She was silent for even longer, then, and Rick eyed the door with concern. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening, and then she answered through the door, still quiet. “I just. Could you come in here? Just. For now?”

They heard the lock on the door click, and Joe got to his feet and opened it slowly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her knees to her chest. The room was dark despite the early hour, since the blinds and curtains were drawn. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. He knew the guys were concerned, he could feel the same thoughts going through his head, but she’d asked for him, so right now it would be just him.

She didn’t look up when he flicked the lightswitch, bathing the room in bright light. He noticed that her hair was already in disarray, and from what he could see of her face, she was still crying. He stood there a moment, not entirely sure what to do next. After a moment, he crossed to sit next to her. She didn’t move, nor speak, and he felt his concerns double. “Love?”

Finally, she shifted, raising her head to meet his eyes. Her eyes were glazed, and he could see the tears had slowed but not entirely abated. She swallowed, heaved a deep sigh, and looked away. Finally, he heard her voice, quiet and choked, “Joe, I just. I don’t know what to do. I - I’ve always known, but now I just have...no clue.” He heard a hiccup, watched her shoulders shake slightly, and then she continued. “It’s like - It’s like a whole part of me has just...just died, Joe. I don’t - I can’t even tell what I’m supposed to be feeling right now. It’s just.” Her voice broke then, and she turned into him, laying her head on his shoulder, her own heaving with the force of her grief.

He didn’t know, either. He couldn’t admit that to her, but he could to himself. He wasn’t sure what to say. Her grief was so raw, so all-encompassing. He hadn’t even had time to fully process the situation, nevermind being able to be a shoulder for her to cry on, or a friend to tell her the right things and get her back on her feet. So he did what he knew how to do: he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and leaned his head against hers while she continued to cry. She leaned into the comfort he was offering, draping her legs over his and catching the edge of his shirt with her left hand.

He closed his eyes, and they sat there for awhile. Eventually, her crying slowed, and he opened his eyes to find them misty. He was a tad surprised by it, but the feelings he was holding inside were so overwhelming, it made sense that he’d be crying some too. He lifted his head, looking down at her. He brushed a ringlet away from her damp cheek, and smiled sadly. “You know, I don’t really know what to say right now.” She laughed at that, a weak chuckle that had his smile growing just slightly. He shifted his weight slightly, and she lifted her head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were still misty, but some of the glazed look was gone. Finally, something occurred to him. It wasn’t an answer or a solution, but maybe talking about it was still worthwhile. “Khris? Is it alright if I ask you something?”

“You just did, but sure,” she extracted her legs from his lap then, lifting her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“Why...what made you think to come in here? Of all the places...”

She glanced back at him, smiling wryly. “You can’t guess?”

“Well...”

“It just. It’s his room. I know he hasn’t lived here in a couple months, but...I just. I needed to be in his space for a minute. I needed space alone. I just didn’t realize how  _ alone _ it would feel.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. Joe, it doesn’t make sense, not really, but I knew what that phone call was going to be before Mutt answered. I knew what he was going to tell me. I just knew. And it’s like suddenly...I’m  _ really  _ alone. Not physically. I know I have you, Rick, Sav, and Phil. I know that you’re all here, and I know we’re all going through this together. But. With him gone, really gone...”

He didn’t completely understand, but he nodded. “Is there anything...we can do? To help?”

She considered that. “I don’t really know. It’s like the whole world has tilted on its axis, Joe. Like a part of me I didn’t really pay much mind to is just not there anymore. And it’s been there so long, I got so used to it being there, I just have no idea what comes next after it goes. I can’t figure the next step. Crying is some of it, and mourning is obvious, but it’s not -” she stopped, eyeing him. “It doesn’t even hurt the way it should. I feel numb more than sad, and that’s worse because then I’m stuck feeling guilty, because numbness...in the face of this? It just seems so wrong. But then, so does everything else about this, so...”

He was beginning to get what she was talking about. It reminded him of something Steve used to say, back when they were younger and making jokes about Steve and Khris’ relationship. “I...can’t say I understand, but I think I sort of know what you’re talking about, love. It makes a bit of sense, really. You two weren’t just friends, weren’t just close. You were...connected. So it makes some sense, the way you’re feeling right now.”

“I just feel directionless, Joe. I know there’s lots I could be doing right now, but I’m just stuck with no idea where I’d even start. I’m sitting in a different country, in a different time zone, while my best friend’s remains are being carted off and examined, and I just. It feels fundamentally wrong, top to bottom. Like I should have been there instead of here. Like I keep finding myself in the wrong place.”

He nodded. They sat in silence again for awhile. She shifted eventually, and murmured. “I know I'm in the wrong place, but being in his room was the closest I could get to the right one. You know?”

She reached for his hand then, twining their fingers, and rested her forehead on her knees. He squeezed her hand gently, and then got up. “I think you need tea.” She looked up at him, resting her chin on her knees now, and smiled slightly.

“How British of you, Joe.”

“It’ll help, I promise. And...I think you need to talk to more people than just me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re all going through this together, and Phil, Sav, and Rick could probably understand some part of this, too.” He got to the door, laid his hand on the knob, and then looked at her. She was still watching him. Her eyes had calmed considerably, and while there was still evidence she’d been crying, she looked a bit less lost than she had when he’d joined her. He gave her a lopsided smile, and then added, “Oh and Khris? He felt it too. Used to tell us all the time that what there was between the two of you was unique. He used to call it a connection between your souls. He’d even say that, when you were halfway across the globe, he still knew if you were happy or sad or confused or angry. He knew when you were hurting, and sick, and he said he’d do everything he could to help fix what was wrong. And once, he speculated that it had something to do with your birthday being the same. He swore that you two had been born at the same time, just different years, and that your souls were...bonded because of that. I’m beginning to understand what he meant by it all. And I’m betting that he was onto something.”

And with that said, he headed out of the room to make her tea and get started on the mourning. 


	9. Little Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Khris have it out, but not in the way anyone expected.

_“Although I’m not making plans, I hope that you understand there’s a reason why; close your, close your, close your eyes...No more broken hearts, we’re better off apart - let’s give it a try; Tell me, tell me, tell me lies.”_

**September 4, 1988**

They were rehearsing. Soon, they’d be off to the States for the next leg of their tour, but first they needed to figure out what songs they were performing and what arrangements they wanted to use for certain songs. They had already decided to hang onto the acoustic  _Heartbreak_ arrangement, but there were other songs they felt needed a change of pace as they resumed touring.

Khris was dancing around the edges of their rehearsal, as she had been for the past 2 weeks. She’d gotten some great shots in that time, as she’d proudly told them all every time they went for drinks after a grueling rehearsal. And she only had 2 days left before flying out for another job. She hadn’t specified who the job was for, nor had she been particularly clear about when she’d be back. All the same, they were trying to enjoy her presence for however long she’d be there. And of course, they were doing the usual pleading to get her to extend her stay, and join them in the States, all while she continued to remind them that a contract was a contract, and hers was clear about when she left for her next job.

That afternoon was a humid one, and they called a break between attempts at arranging _Hysteria_. They were all a bit cranky because of the odd heat wave that had rolled through the previous day, and made the work in the rehearsal space even more strenuous. As Sav and Rick chugged water and discussed the tempo they were aiming for, Steve caught Phil and dragged him into a chat about the arrangement of the bridge. Joe sat heavily on one of the amps, taking a sip of water and surveying the space.

No matter how often they went through these motions, it always took a lot out of him to rehearse. There was none of the immediate feedback that came with the audiences, and there wasn’t even Mutt’s refrain of “Just one more time, Joe,” to tell him he wasn’t quite there. While working in sessions with Mutt was taxing due to the continuous work on the same 3 lines for a whole day, rehearsals for tour were a special kind of hell to Joe. And touring itself was really more invigorating, as opposed to strenuous, thanks to the audiences they played before, night after night.

He caught a flash of red hair as Khris headed to the room she’d left her equipment in - the same room that the food and drink was being kept. He smiled slightly. That was one thing that made even the rehearsals bearable, if he was being honest.

But given the odd shape these past few years had taken, he had to admit the sight wasn’t quite the same now. After all, she had been Sav’s girlfriend, and a very involved one at that, for the better part of the last few years. Ever since Rick's accident, really. And things between himself and Khris had shifted since then. Not that the shape of things was bad, exactly. Just...not how he’d have liked. And he’d definitely done more than his fair share to aid the way their friendship currently was. Between the stupid shit he’d said back when they’d first returned to the studio, and the crude remarks when they’d been refining the tapes of gibberish into Sugar, he was definitely to blame for a lot of the tension that existed between the two of them. And because of that, he’d begun to think things weren’t really going to get better unless he did something else stupid.

Before he had more time to dwell on things, they returned to fine-tuning the arrangement for _Hysteria,_ and Khris returned to shooting them. They worked on and off throughout the rest of the afternoon, and by the end of it they were all tired, sweaty, and hungry. They headed back to the house they were staying at, all taking turns at a quick shower and changing before heading to the bar. They ate, they drank, and they made merry, joking about the strain of rehearsals and how compared to this, Mutt seemed kind. They talked for a few hours, nursing beers and cocktails, and discussing the finer points of what they’d planned for the next day. All of this was interspersed with jokes that Khris staying just an extra day or two would improve the chances of  them going into this new tour leg reinvigorated and ready for the grueling task of more months on the road.

As they walked back to the house, they smoked and chatted lazily in the unusually warm summer air about nothing of particular consequence. Once they got back, they threw open the windows on the lower floor and sat around the kitchen, talking and drinking beer for awhile before moving to the living room.

They played cassettes and smoked and drank. It was nice to unwind and do things they’d always done before a tour, and this had become as much a tradition to them as a group as the backbreaking labor of writing and recording an album, or the idea that Khris and Ray must hear any record before they put it out. It was one part tradition, and one part superstition.

It must have been 2 or 3 in the morning when Khris offered to grab the next round of drinks from the kitchen - beers for the boys, cola for Phil, and wine for herself. Joe offered to help, and followed her into the kitchen, where he helped her uncap the beers, while she grabbed the soda and poured herself a healthy serving of wine. She turned, smiling slightly, and he felt the drink and his earlier thoughts, heavy on his mind and tongue. Before he could stop himself, the drink and the evening married with the stupidity, and shoved the words out of his mouth. “Khris, what happened to us?”

He watched the curve of her smile falter, and then it returned, although it had dimmed slightly. “Joe, what do you mean?” he could hear it, just a hint of a slur. She was as gone as he, which meant this conversation was, at best, a terrible idea. And still, it was like his mouth had its own ideas.

“I mean, you and I, Khrissie. What in the world did I do wrong?”

“Oh.” She flushed and took a sip of her wine. “Joe, you didn’t. I mean, nothing we haven’t already worked through. It’s all in the past.”

“Well, I know I’ve made an ass of myself forwards, backwards, and sideways the last couple years. I referring specifically to this distance between us. It’s gotten unbearable.”

“Joe, there’s no distance. We’re alright. I don’t know where you got the idea -”

“We never talk. No, I mean - we joke, plenty. We laugh and have it out for the fun of it. But you and I never really _say anything_ to each other anymore. It’s like, ever since you and Sav got together, there’s...you don’t say anything to me that’s more meaningful than, oh, the weather or this amazing shot you got of Freddie and Brian last time you were out with them. It’s freaking unbelievable.” He hadn’t meant to come across so short, but then again, he hadn’t meant to start this at all.

“Joe...” her eyes flashed something unreadable, and then she sighed. “It’s not simple, anymore. I don’t know that it ever was, but it got so much more complicated since - I just. Don’t know how to talk about the things that matter, not when every time I’ve tried, you’ve gone and done...this.”

“This?”

“You start something. You write some scathing lyrics that everyone has to turn a blind eye to, or you get piss drunk and start telling everyone crude jokes about me, because it’s a joke and it’s not like I can’t take it.”

“Khris, I didn’t realize -”

“It’s fine. It really is. You and I do have distance, that’s fair enough an observation. But you’re also right that you did something. And so did I. I guess it’s just one of those things about the kind of people we are, Joe. You and I don’t have a fight, we have war. I’m too short tempered, and you’re too...stubborn. Things can’t change, or I can’t go be a photographer for Ross, or you can’t tell me what to do...we’ve circled this block, and I thought we’d already agreed that we couldn’t talk about non-superficial things because whenever we do, we go nuclear.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that came. “Nuclear is probably the right word for it, I guess. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just lonely, when you’ll talk to everyone else, and all you and I can seem to discuss is basic stuff like the record or the tour.”

He caught the annoyance. “You’re doing it again, you know. It’s getting subtler, but you’re still starting things, Joe. We just settled this, again. We don’t talk for a reason. I’m sorry it’s lonely. But until we figure out how not to wind each other up every time we talk about substantial things, that’s really the only option we seem to have available. Unless you’d rather we weren’t friends, either.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, watching one another. Finally he sighed, not having realized he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He felt his head clear slightly as he exhaled, and realized why he’d wanted to talk about this. And what he really wanted to talk about.

Very softly, he asked her, “Khris, if I agree to speak calmly and honestly, and you do as well, can we talk for the next few minutes?”

He understood the suspicion in her eyes, but felt gratified when it cleared slightly, and she simply asked, “What about?”

He took a moment to breathe, and work through the logistics of how to approach it. There wasn’t really a good way. “Why wasn’t it me?”

She was completely astonished. “I...what do you mean?”

“I’m referring to the part where I specifically and repeatedly asked you out in 1983 and 1984, and you repeatedly refused. I understand that was your choice to make. It’s just the reasons you gave me didn’t make much sense when you wound up dating Sav. And when it came to it, I thought it might have been the timing, the situation we were in at the time that you two got together. But then you guys stayed together, and and then, just last year, you two broke up and didn't even tell anyone at first, after you'd been so happy. I just really want to know why it couldn't have been me.”

She was quiet for what felt like forever. Couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity as she considered him. “Joe, it’s complicated.”

“Well, I’m not exactly going anywhere, and I’d really rather try wrapping my head around the very complicated issue at hand than continue wondering.”

Another moment ticked by. “It isn’t that I didn’t want to date you, at the time.” He waited, reigning in the nuclear side of himself. He knew if he hadn’t all but promised to stay quiet and calm, he’d have blown up with just that admission. As it was, he struggled not to do so now. “You need to understand things from my point of view, though. Joe, you’re my brother’s age. You’ve got 6 years on me. And you’re intelligent -” he couldn’t help laughing at that.

“Khris, I’m a singer, and before that I was a factory worker.”

“Stop. Talking. This is hard enough as it is. I don’t need you interrupting. Do you want to hear this or not? Anyways. You’re smart, and funny, and stupidly charming when you put your mind to it. And the reason you go nuclear is the same reason I do.”

She sipped her wine, and he teased, “You’re emotional too?”

“I was referring to being passionate, Joe. About what you do, about your friends and family, about the things you want. You’re passionate, and you’re driven. It’s a large part of how you guys got out of that silly factory. And it’s the entire reason you and I have legendary screaming matches at every turn. But that’s just the thing of it. We had a lot of chemistry. And it could’ve been great, for a minute.

“I was nineteen when you started asking me out, and you were twenty-five. That’s not exactly a small margin of difference in life experiences. But it probably would have still been quite something, had we ever gotten together. Thing is, I really thought about it. But you and I haven’t really ever had a peaceful moment. We’re too similar in that we can’t ever just let things lie, and you and I have always had these legendary, explosive fights. And by the time we’d gotten to ‘84 and I was seriously thinking over the issue of us, we’d had quite a few of those. It made me wonder what kind of relationship you and I would ever have. If every little thing is something neither of us can drop, we don’t ever move on. And even though we’re not dating, that’s actually been kinda true the last few years, anyway.”

“But that’s not really demonstrative of dating, love.”

“Well, it is and it isn’t. There’s a lot that goes into being in a relationship, as well you know. And certainly it couldn’t have been all bad. Explosive and passionate can be really good for some things. But in terms of working out little differences, you and I have never really managed to get past those. And if we ever dated, eventually those little differences would have added up and caused us to break up. And if our fights over the small stuff are bad, can you imagine the destruction that breaking up would cause us?”

He considered that. A part of him wanted to forget he’d brought this up and return to the living room where everyone was likely getting impatient, and not even return to this. The other part was still nagging at him. “Okay. Maybe you and I would have been a bad idea, then. But we’ve grown since, and changed, and -”

“And we still blow up at each other over things. Remember when you wrote _Love Bites_ ? Originally, I mean. Or how about _Sugar_? Joe, that one was really recent. We stopped talking for 3 weeks.”

“Alright. You have a point. But I just don’t get it. Why him? He’s my best friend, and it felt like a deliberate choice, to -”

She spoke softly. “Joe, think about it. You and I are explosive, and volatile. But Rick? He’s not. He’s passionate, sure. But it’s not aggressive and loud, like you and I. We were decent friends, before. And at the time that it happened, we had no idea what was coming. All we knew was that there was something between us, something we both wanted to explore. And when we had, it wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t half bad. And then everything that came after...

“It was - it was nice to have comfort. To have someone I could visit between jobs that wouldn’t make jokes at the expense of my career, would listen when I complained about the stupidity I encountered elsewhere in the world, amongst other bands. Someone who’d smile and then tell me how well things were going, could joke a little about how you guys were getting on terribly, even when you weren’t, just to cheer me up.”

“But...it could’ve been Steve. Or Rick.”

“It couldn’t. Rick wasn’t in a place for the kind of relationship I wanted at the time. He was a little busy, dealing with everything else. And after what happened between us in high school, I don’t think either of us wanted a repeat. And Steve...we don’t have that chemistry. The thing that gets the blood going. There’s a lot of love, and Steve and I can talk, often more deeply than _Rick_ and I do. But the chemistry I feel between you and I, and between myself and Rick? That’s not something Steve and I have ever had. Not for lack of trying, but we’re just too similar, we see things so similarly and it’s not something that would translate into a romantic relationship.

“Rick and I, we could talk, or sit and watch TV at the end of the day. We fought, yes, and then we'd make up. It wasn't perfect, nothing ever is, but it was incredibly good for the both of us because we provided something the other needed. And that love isn't gone, we're still close friends, whereas if you and I had dated and broken up, I'm not sure you and I would even manage speaking.”

“I just don’t see...it felt like it was on purpose, like a demonstration specifically for my benefit.”

“I can assure you, it wasn’t that, Joe. Never that. In fact, we didn’t intend initially for it to become anything more than how it started. What happened with Rick led us to reevaluating what had happened between us, and that’s why we decided to actually date. It had nothing to do with you, or with your relationship with each other. We didn’t want anyone to know for awhile, same with breaking up, because we didn’t want you to assume it was something to do with you, and we didn’t want it to look like...well, what it looked like.”

He considered her. He could feel what he’d drunk earlier blurring the edges of his resolve, and he knew that she’d answered his every question, as best she could. He still wanted to beg, to tell her that he couldn’t get over her, that she was all he’d wanted these past few years. But given that things between her and Rick had been so good, he knew that would bring nothing but guilt and unhappiness, as well as yet more tension and distance between them. 

“Khris, I’m a really long way from being able to be happy for the two of you. I wish I weren’t, but it’s a long way off. However, I think I finally sort of understand, and I’m going to work on letting this go. Because I do want you to be happy, and whatever else I feel about this, you clearly are. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass, but I...well, I’d like it if you and I could start talking as friends again...”

“You know, I’d like that, Joe. I think being friends again would be nice.”

And with that, they returned to the living room, joking about their absence in the kitchen. They spent the rest of the night whiling away the hours in the good company of friends and preparing for the monotony and stress they’d once again be subjecting themselves to the following day.


	10. Need Your Loving Tonight

_ “Come on baby let's get together, I'll love you baby - I'll love you forever. I'm trying hard to stay away; what made you change? What did I say? Ooh I need your loving tonight...” _

**December 31st, 1984**

For once, it was a clear sky in December. She lifted a beer to her lips, smiling as he pointed out a constellation. A stiff breeze passed through the garden, and she tugged her cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders. It was 3 am on the last day of the year, and she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than sharing beer with Rick Savage in her brother’s freezing back garden. She felt a little hazy from the beer and the late hour, but knew she didn’t want to sleep yet. The day before had been a regular day for them, just spending time in Sheffield with the boys who’d become like her second family. Of course, Steve and Phil were in Paris with their girlfriends, but Rick and Joe and Sav had stayed in Sheffield to spend a little more time with their families (and in Rick’s case, his girlfriend.) And since she was in town for much the same reason, they’d spent yesterday in a couple of their favorite haunts, including the record store she’d frequented back when she’d first moved here.

After their afternoon, Ray had invited the boys and Miriam over for dinner, and had spent the time interrogating them about the record they were working on. It hadn’t been going very well, that she already knew. However, there were still plenty of funny anecdotes about Mutt’s replacement, Jim Steinman. And they had a lot to say about a couple of specific ideas they wished he knew how to explore better. Or at least in a more Mutt-like way. They’d retired to the back garden after dinner, all of them. It was an oddly temperate evening at the time, with cloud cover keeping the last of the warm front in, so they’d drunk beer and joked about Mutt and the record and such.

Eventually Joe had begged off to bed, heading inside to crash on Ray’s sofa while Rick and Miriam headed back to their hotel. Ray and Khris and Rick had stayed, however, until the wee hours when the chill had finally descended and Ray decided he needed some sleep given the party he was throwing tomorrow - or later today, depending on your viewpoint.

So she and Rick sat now, alone except for the occasional stiff breeze. They were mostly quiet, except for his pointing out the occasional constellation.

Another breeze drifted by, and she felt a shiver escape her. She had another sip of beer to try to warm herself, and Rick looked up, eyeing her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be keeping you up this late. It’s freezing, nevermind the stuff you have to help Ray with tomorrow.”

That made her laugh. She turned her eyes skyward, considering the upended bowl filled with gleaming points of light. There weren’t as many here as there were in the country, but there were still plenty to see and admire. “I’ll be alright, love,” she murmured. “It’s not so bad, I just left all my good coats back in Ireland, since it’s usually warmer and rainier here.”

She lowered her eyes, and noticed he was watching her. Their eyes met, and she felt a different kind of shiver run down her spine at his gaze. She’d felt this sensation a few times before this year, but she wasn’t quite accustomed to it yet. She dropped her gaze to her lap, then, where she was fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. “Khris?” he said it so quietly, at first she thought she might have imagined it. When she risked looking back at him, however, she knew he had spoken, he looked so expectant.

“Yes?”

She waited, and another breeze made the trees ripple and dance. “I was just thinking - I mean, it’s almost a new year. I know we always joke about it, but I was wondering what your plans are this next year. I mean, we’ve barely seen you this year, and I know it’s work, but...” he trailed off, unsure of where he was going with it.

“I’ve got a few contracts for early in the year. I know that Ross’ll be getting more as the year picks up, but I already have 3 jobs lined up between January and March. It’ll be another busy year, of course. We’re really getting somewhere with the firm. In fact, Ross is even discussing hiring interns or assistants to help lighten our load so we can keep up with the pace he wants.”

“So you won’t be visiting much, I guess.” She wondered at his tone, and more so at the change in his expression. He seemed to almost withdraw from the topic.

“Well it depends on how the next year shakes out, really. But it’s not likely I’ll have much time free, no.” She watched him, wondering why he was asking, but unsure whether to broach the topic.

He moved slightly, lifting his own bottle and downing a sip of beer. “It just...well it’s been different when you’re not around, you know.” He seemed to be answering the question she hadn’t voiced, now. “I mean, Steve has been pretty down when you’re gone on these assignments, even when you call. And Joe...”

She laughed. “Joe is always on his bullshit when it comes to me, Sav. It’s not like I don’t try. But visiting isn’t always possible, and if it were me here in Sheffield working some nine-to-five while you guys were travelling and working and recording, I’m sure I’d see and hear very little from him. In fact I feel like Steve’s likely the only one that would find the time to visit, so Joe really needs to chill.” That gave him a laugh, too.

“Well, you have a point, but it’s not just - Khris, we all miss you when you’re working. Steve mopes, Joe bitches, sure, but we all prefer when you’re around. You may annoy the ever-living hell out of Mutt, but I think even he appreciates you, in his way. And it’s not been the same in the studio this year, between Mutt taking his sabbatical and you off working on every continent except this one.”

“What exactly are you asking me, Sav?”

He sighed, setting down his bottle. “That didn’t come out right. We’re all happy you love what you do, and it’s amazing that you have this career. It really is. It just sometimes seems like things have changed since you started working so much. And I know you’re not responsible for our work, but it’s different working so independently from you.”

“I know you guys got used to me being around, but it can’t be helped. Your job requires you to travel, just like mine does. It’s just...part of the deal, Sav. You know that. And I’m sure that, in his own way, Joe knows it, too. Besides, the people I get to meet and the places I get to see - it’s not easy being so far from home, and it’s even less so when I’m nearly always so far from my closest friends. But it’s a part of my job. And I love doing it. Besides, my contract is up this year in April, and Ross has already started talking to me about the new terms. I’m getting so many more benefits, and I’m going to be seeing a substantial increase in my base salary. He’s even talking seriously about increasing the amount of vacation time I’m offered, in light of our being able to afford a couple more employees.”

“I know, it just seems very...different. Like things have changed.”

“Well, who said change was a bad thing?” She watched him a moment, his fingers worrying through his hair with nervous energy. “Look, Sav -” she started.

“I wish you’d use my name, Khris. You do sometimes, I know, but it’s just us. You can actually call me Rick, you know.”

“I do. It’s just...” How, she wondered, did she explain it to him? “Recently, what with how little time I’ve spent around, I thought it was maybe too...”

“Too, what? Familiar?” She looked up in surprise, and he met her gaze levelly. “Khrissie,” he spoke softly, now, barely louder than the wind in the garden. “I don’t know where you get these ideas. We’ve known each other for...five years. Nearly six.”

“I know, I just thought -” She didn’t really know what to say, though, so she didn’t finish, nor did she address his use of her other nickname, the one only Ray used regularly.

They lapsed again into silence for a few minutes. Finally, he looked at her, face upturned to survey the stars, and frowned. “You don’t feel it, do you?”

“What do you mean?” she kept her tone light, not betraying the slight flutter in her heart at the query.

“The...changes over this last year.”

“Of course I feel it. Distance isn’t just a word, Rick. I’ve been separated from you guys for at least 9 of the last 12 months, which is a world of difference. The dynamics of being around you guys had fundamentally shifted while I was gone, and I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate it all.”

“That’s...not really what I meant, Khris. That’s all true, but it isn’t just how we as a band relate to each other, it’s how you fit into those...dynamics.”

“I’m a little...lost. What, exactly are you referring to, Rick?” Her voice conveyed a certain naivete, but the way her eyes danced in the moonlight made him wonder whether that was feigned. He debated internally for another moment about whether or not to shatter whatever false beliefs she had about her relationships, but a chilly breeze swept by and he decided that if not now, there wasn’t likely to be another opportunity to tell her the truth.

“I’ve become...infatuated with you, love. I don’t really know why or how, but it’s happened. And I’ve been finding it hard to ignore, when there’s obviously  _ something _ there.”

They sat in silence for a moment, considering each other. He felt somewhat stupid, suddenly. What if it weren’t obvious to her? Worse still, what if he’d come to the wrong conclusions altogether about the chemistry he’d thought they shared? After all, Joe had been asking her out a while, and while she’d never agreed, he wondered if maybe she thought Joe was a better match. Or Steve, maybe. Maybe he’d misread what was between them and...

She noticed the quiet, and the way he suddenly seemed nervous. And she thought about what he’d said. It was true she’d noticed something between them. A lingering glance here, an intentional joke there. A dance of flirting and intentions that had spanned the majority of the year as they circled and considered. And now here they were, and he’d addressed it directly. She knew there could be a thousand complications from this, but she also knew that she agreed that there was something between them, and that it was definitely worth exploring.

“You know something Rick?” A shiver passed down his spine at the way her voice caressed his name, the way her tone had shifted. “You’re right, there is something here. I’ve been worried about it for a while, but there’s no denying we’ve got something here worth exploring. I guess I’m just wondering how we’re going to deal with the complications.”

“What complications?” he knew what she meant, but they were so close to making this happen, he didn’t want her to back away from it now. He wanted this, wanted her, so much and he couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if a few small road bumps stopped them before they’d started.

“Well what happens when Joe finds out? He’s bound to, the whole band is, and I have no doubt this would change things between me and the rest of the band. And what about my job? It’s not like I’m going to stop travelling, nevermind your own work. I mean god, we’re usually not even on the same continent, let alone the same time zone.”

“I see what you’re saying. But have you considered it could be worth the complications, worth all the irritations and challenges? I mean, so Joe finds out. So what? It’s not his problem, as far as I can see. Not any of their problems what goes on between you and I. If it doesn’t affect our working relationship, then it won’t matter what happens between us when we’re not working. And yes, we travel, but it’s not like we never see each other. You visit as often as you can, and once we’ve finished this record we’ll be going back to touring. I’m sure we’ll see you more often then, the record company always wants you or Ross shooting us when we’re touring.”

“I guess...it feels like you guys are stuck with the record, though. I mean you’ve had a bunch of issues with the guy producing, and the music hasn’t been up to snuff according to Joe and Rick...what happens if you don’t finish it quickly? That’s a lot of time apart.”

“We can figure it out, I’m sure. It just seems like it’d be a shame not to at least give it a try.” More silence. Another breeze came and went, and he noticed her shiver slightly and pull her cardigan tighter around her again. And she shifted ever so slightly closer to him, the wood of the table they were sitting on letting out a slight creak at the movement. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push you, it’s not -”

He was cut off by her leaning in, closing the distance between them and joining their lips. His head spun at the sensation, her warmth and her scent. He wasn’t sure what to do, should he kiss her back, or pull away? She hadn’t sounded altogether convinced when they’d discussed potential consequences, and yet...she sighed into the kiss, and that intoxicated him. He didn’t move consciously, but his hand caught the side of her face, tangling in her fiery curls as he kissed her back. She moved into him, kissing him deeper, and he caught her waist with his other arm, pulling her to him.

He was so warm, and his lips so soft, and she felt as if she were on particularly good drugs as her own head spun and she kissed him deeply, enjoying the warmth of his arms and the skillful way his lips teased hers. As if by consensus, they leaned back, laying against the table, and their legs tangled slightly.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, resting her head against his hand and watched him. Their hearts were beating so quickly, their breath causing slight steam between them as they stayed there, sizing each other up. “Khris?” he asked after a moment, and she smiled.

“It’s a little cold out here,” she replied. “What say we go warm up inside, and talk?”

They sat up, still incredibly close. He helped her to her feet, and they stepped into the living room through the sliding door. She caught his hand and led him toward the kitchen. Once there, she pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge, grabbing a couple of coffee cups from the rack and pouring them each a healthy amount. She returned the wine to the fridge and he couldn’t resist catching her hand, pulling her close and kissing her again. He pressed her back against the edge of the kitchen counter, and she smiled pulling back. He moved his right hand, catching her hair and running his fingers through the tousled curls. “Rick, are you sure about this?”

“Mhmm. Sure as anything.” He leaned in again, moving his lips against her neck and hearing her breath catch slightly. He smiled as he straightened, his heart pounding in anticipation.

“Well in that case...” she maneuvered out from between him and the counter, reaching for the mug of wine, and handing him his. She took a sip, watching him, and then turned, leading him down the hall to her bedroom.

He could remember the first time he’d seen it, back 1980. He couldn’t remember the circumstances that had led to the band coming in here and begging her to join them on tour, but the room still reminded him of that time. The sky-blue walls, the posters and photos - more than ever of her work, and of the band. Some were polaroids, some were proper prints, and they were pinned everywhere, an especially dense collection right above her bed. The bed had an odd, reversible duvet she’d sewn herself, with an American flag on one side and a Union Jack on the other, the Union Jack currently displayed proudly. The desk, with her reliable old turntable on one side, the cassette player on the other, and a couple shoeboxes of photos sitting in between. Everywhere was the evidence of her job, from the reading chair sitting under the window, heaped with books of proofs, to the bag just barely sticking out of her closet, loaded down with camera equipment. And standing in the center of the room, watching him as she sipped her drink, was her. It was a marvel, the things she’d gone through to get here, and he felt another wave of adoration.

He crossed to her, taking her cup and setting both down on her small nightstand. Then he turned, drawing her to him. She caught his face, framing it with her hands and smiling before running them through his hair as he’d done before. She pulled him down, his face to hers, and their lips joined again. They sank onto the bed as their kiss deepened, and their heads spun.

She broke it, getting up and crossing to her cassette player. It was a nice one, it even automatically switched sides, running continuously instead of requiring someone to turn the cassette over. She pulled a tape from the stack of them sitting on her desk, and put it in, pressing play. She came back to the bed, sitting next to him, as Killer Queen began playing. “Is this..?”

“The tape you gave me for Christmas two years ago? Yeah. It’s a good mix.” He remembered, the mix of Journey and Queen, Fleetwood Mac and Night Ranger that he’d thrown together for her. He smiled, sliding his arm around her waist.

“I’m surprised you still listen to it.”

“Well, it’s got some wonderful songs on it. And you made it.”

_ Caviar and cigarettes, well versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice, she’s a Killer Queen... _ it played as they moved together. His lips moved against her neck, her hands against his chest. They lay back against the bed, and soon they’d partially disrobed given the warmth and closeness. He rolled, pulling her on top of him, and they lay there, still kissing. Their heads spun as they moved skin to skin, and she felt the movement of the song just as strongly as the movements of his hands against her chest, on her stomach. Stone In Love was playing, and their urgency increased, their need urging them on. They tangled closer together, shedding her brassiere and his pants, and they rolled again so she was resting under him, on her back. His lips moved from her neck to her clavicle, and kept on moving, further down. It thrilled her when his teeth scraped against her stomach, when his tongue danced in her thigh, when he sank in and moved his mouth against her, into her.

They moved together, every sensation causing them to lose yet more of their control, until finally they hung together, a hair’s breadth separating them from each other. Her head tumbled as she rolled them so he was on his back now, and rose over him, teasing gently. Music filled the air, alongside their gasping breaths. He sank into her and they moved as one, teasing and gasping as the sensations rolled over them unabated.

* * *

It was 4 am, and they were lying there, naked and sharing a cigarette. When he’d reminded her of Ray’s house rules, she had pointed out that they were joint house rules, and one cigarette would definitely go unnoticed by her brother. They were still tangled in each other and the sheets, listening lazily as Feelin’ That Way ended and was replaced by Under Pressure. She took another drag, passing him the cigarette, and leaned away to pick up her mug of wine. She sipped it, humming along with the song. He finished the cigarette,  reaching around her to stub it out on the ashtray sitting on her nightstand.

“Are we going to talk about...that?” he finally asked.

She turned, watching his face. He could see that she was tired, but he felt as if they had to talk, that it was vitally important. “We can, but I was thinking we could get some sleep first.” As he reached for his shirt, she caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I meant together, Rick.”

“What if...” he wanted to ask what happened if Ray, or worse, Joe, came in later to wake her and found him in her bed. But she could clearly see what was on his mind.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that. Ray likes to sleep in on New Year’s Eve, and I’m sure Joe will be out almost as long, given how late we all stayed up. I’d like you to stay, and I’d really like to get some sleep before we...talk.”

He thought about it a moment, as she set her now empty mug down and faced him again. Then he leaned in, catching her mouth as they sank into bed, pulling up the covers and tangling together once more.


End file.
